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COLLECTED  PAPERS  ON 

ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

✓ 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


RY 

C.  G.  JUNG,  M.D.,  LL.D., 

FORMERLY  OF  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  ZURICH. 


AUTHORISED  TRANSLATION  EDITED  BY 

DR.  CONSTANCE  E.  LONG, 

MEDICAL  OFFICER,  EDUCATION  BOARD  ;  MEMBER  ADVISORY  COMMITTEE  INSURANCE  ACT 
EX-PRESIDENT  ASSOCIATION  OF  REGISTERED  MEDICAL  WOMEN,  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

MOFFAT  YARD  AND  COMPANY 


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EDITOR’S  PREFACE 


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The  following  papers  have  been  gathered  together  from 
various  sources,  and  are  now  available  for  the  first  time  to 
English  readers.  The  subject  of  Psychoanalysis  is  much 
in  evidence,  and  is  likely  to  occupy  still  more  attention  in 
the  near  future,  as  the  psychological  content  of  the  psychoses 
and  neuroses  is  more  generally  appreciated  and  understood. 
It  is  of  importance,  therefore,  that  the  fundamental  writings  of 
both  the  Viennese  and  Zurich  Schools  should  be  accessible  for 
study.  Several  of  Freud's  works  have  already  been  translated 
into  English,  and  it  is  fortunate  that  at  the  moment  of  going 
to  press,  in  addition  to  the  volume  now  offered,  Dr.  Jung’s 
“Wandlungen  und  Symbole  der  Libido”  is  appearing  in 
America  under  the  title  of  “The  Psychology  of  the  Un¬ 
conscious.”  These  two  books,  read  in  conjunction,  offer  a 
fairly  complete  picture  of  the  scientific  and  philosophic  stand¬ 
point  of  the  leader  of  the  Zurich  School.  It  is  the  task  of  the 
future  to  judge  and  expand  the  findings  of  both  schools,  and 
to  work  at  the  devolopment  of  the  new  psychology,  which  is 
still  in  its  infancy. 

It  will  be  a  relief  to  many  students  of  the  Unconscious  to 
see  in  it  another  aspect  than  that  of  “  a  wild  beast  couched, 
waiting  its  hour  to  spring.”  Some  readers  have  gathered  that 
view  of  it  from  the  writings  of  the  Viennese  School.  This 
view  is  at  most  that  dangerous  thing  “  a  half-truth.” 

There  is  no  doubt  that  some  even  scientific  persons  have 
a  certain  fear  of  whither  the  study  of  the  Unconscious  may 
lead.  These  fearful  persons  should  be  reminded  that  they 
possess  an  Unconscious  in  spite  of  themselves,  and  that 
they  share  it  in  common  with  every  human  being.  It  is  only 


360904 


2-2 


VI 


EDITOR’S  PREFACE 


an  extension  of  the  Individual.  To  study  it  is  to  deepen  the 
self.  All  new  discoveries  have  at  one  stage  been  called 
dangerous,  and  all  new  philosophies  have  been  deemed 
heresies.  It  is  as  if  we  would  once  more  consign  radium  to  its 
dust-heaps,  lest  some  day  the  new  radiancy  should  overpower 
mankind.  Indeed  this  very  thing  has  proved  at  once  most 
dangerous  and  most  exquisitely  precious.  Man  must  learn 
to  use  this  treasure,  and  in  using  it  to  submit  to  its  own  laws , 
which  can  only  become  known  when  it  is  handled. 

Those  who  read  this  hook  with  the  attention  it  requires, 
will  find  they  gain  an  impression  of  many  new  truths.  It  is 
issued  towards  the  end  of  the  second  year  of  the  great 
European  war,  at  a  time  when  much  we  have  valued  and 
held  sacred  is  in  the  melting-pot.  But  we  believe  that  out  of 
the  crucible,  new  forms  will  arise.  The  study  of  Psycho¬ 
analysis  produces  something  of  the  effect  of  a  war  in  the 
psyche ;  indeed  we  need  to  make  conscious  this  war  in  the 
inner  things  if  we  would  be  delivered  in  the  future  from 
the  war  in  the  external  world,  either  in  the  form  of  individual 
or  international  neurosis.  In  the  pain  and  the  upheaval, 
one  recognises  the  birth-pangs  of  newer,  and  let  us  hope, 
truer  thought,  and  more  natural  adaptations.  We  need  a 
new  philosophy  of  life  to  take  the  place  of  that  which  has 
perished  in  the  general  cataclysm,  and  it  is  because  I  see  in 
the  analytical  psychology  which  grows  out  of  a  scientific 
study  of  the  Unconscious,  the  germs  of  a  new  construction, 
that  I  have  gathered  the  following  essays  together.  They 
are  printed  in  chronological  order,  and  those  readers  who 
are  sufficiently  interested  will  be  able  to  discern  in  them 
the  gradual  development  of  Dr.  Jung’s  present  position  in 
Psychoanalysis. 


2,  Harley  Place,  W. 
February ,  1916. 


CONSTANCE  E.  LONG. 


AUTHOR’S  PREFACE 

This  volume  contains  a  selection  of  articles  and  pamphlets 
on  analytical  psychology  written  at  intervals  during  the  past 
fourteen  years.  These  years  have  seen  the  development  of  a 
new  discipline,  and  as  is  usual  in  such  a  case,  have  involved 
many  changes  of  view-point,  of  concept,  and  of  formulation. 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  give  a  presentation  of  the  funda¬ 
mental  concepts  of  analytical  psychology  in  this  book;  it 
throws  some  light,  however,  on  a  certain  line  of  development 
which  is  especially  characteristic  of  the  Zurich  School  of 
psychoanalysis. 

As  is  well  known,  the  merit  of  the  discovery  of  the  new 
analytical  method  of  general  psychology  belongs  to  Professor 
Freud  of  Vienna.  His  original  view-points  had  to  undergo 
many  essential  modifications,  some  of  them  owing  to  the  work 
done  at  Zurich,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  himself  is  far  from 
agreeing  with  the  standpoint  of  this  school. 

I  am  unable  to  explain  fully  the  fundamental  differences 
between  the  two  schools,  but  would  indicate  the  following 
points :  The  Vienna  School  takes  the  standpoint  of  an  ex¬ 
clusive  sexualistic  conception,  while  that  of  the  Zurich  School 
is  symbolistic.  The  Vienna  School  interprets  the  psycho¬ 
logical  symbol  semiotically,  as  a  sign  or  token  of  certain 
primitive  psychosexual  processes.  Its  method  is  analytical 
and  causal. 

The  Zurich  School  recognises  the  scientific  feasibility  of 
such  a  conception,  but  denies  its  exclusive  validity,  for  it 
does  not  interpret  the  psychological  symbol  semiotically  only, 
but  also  symbolistically,  that  is,  it  attributes  a  positive  value 
to  the  symbol. 


Vlll 


AUTHOR’S  PREFACE 


The  value  does  not  depend  merely  on  historical  causes ; 
its  chief  importance  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  has  a  meaning  for 
the  actual  present,  and  for  the  future,  in  their  psychological 
aspects.  For  to  the  Zurich  School  the  symbol  is  not  merely 
a  sign  of  something  repressed  and  concealed,  but  is  at  the 
same  time  an  attempt  to  comprehend  and  to  point  out  the 
way  of  the  further  psychological  development  of  the  individual. 
Thus  we  add  a  prospective  import  to  the  retrospective  value 
of  the  symbol. 

The  method  of  the  Zurich  school  is  therefore  not  only 
analytical  and  causal,  but  also  synthetic  and  prospective, 
in  recognition  that  the  human  mind  is  characterised  by 
“  causae  ”  and  also  by  “  fines  ”  (aims).  The  latter  fact  needs 
particular  emphasis,  because  there  are  two  types  of  psychology, 
the  one  following  the  principle  of  hedonism,  and  the  other 
following  the  principle  of  power.  Scientific  materialism  is 
pertinent  to  the  former  type,  and  the  philosophy  of  Nietzsche 
to  the  latter.  The  principle  of  the  Freudian  theory  is  hedo¬ 
nism,  while  that  of  Adler  (one  of  Freud’s  earliest  personal 
pupils)  is  founded  upon  the  principle  of  power. 

The  Zurich  School,  recognising  the  existence  of  these  two 
types  (also  remarked  by  the  late  Professor  William  James), 
considers  that  the  views  of  Freud  and  Adler  are  one-sided,  and 
only  valid  within  the  limits  of  their  corresponding  type.  Both 
principles  exist  within  every  individual,  but  not  in  equal 
proportions. 

Thus,  it  is  obvious  that  each  psychological  symbol  has 
two  aspects,  and  should  be  interpreted  according  to  the  two 
principles.  Freud  and  Adler  interpret  in  the  analytical  and 
causal  way,  reducing  to  the  infantile  and  primitive.  Thus 
with  Freud  the  conception  of  the  “  aim  ”  is  the  fulfilment  of 
desire,  with  Adler  it  is  the  usurpation  of  power.  Both  authors 
take  the  standpoint  in  their  practical  analytical  work  which 
brings  to  view  only  infantile  and  gross  egoistic  aims. 

The  Zurich  School  is  convinced  of  the  fact  that  within  the 
limits  of  a  diseased  mental  attitude  the  psychology  is  such  as 
Freud  and  Adler  describe.  It  is,  indeed,  just  on  account  of 
such  impossible  and  childish  psychology  that  the  individual 


AUTHOR’S  PREFACE 


IX 


is  in  a  state  of  inward  dissociation  and  hence  neurotic.  The 
Zurich  School,  therefore,  in  agreement  with  them  so  far,  also 
reduces  the  psychological  symbol  (the  phantasy  products  of 
the  patient)  to  the  fundamental  infantile  hedonism,  or  to  the  \ 
infantile  desire  for  power.  But  Freud  and  Adler  content 
themselves  with  the  result  of  mere  reduction,  according  to 
their  scientific  biologism  and  naturalism. 

But  here  a  very  important  question  arises.  Can  man 
obey  the  fundamental  and  primitive  impulses  of  his  nature 
without  gravely  injuring  himself  or  his  fellow  beings  ?  He 
cannot  assert  either  his  sexual  desire  or  his  desire  for  power 
unlimitedly,  and  the  limits  are  moreover  very  restricted. 
The  Zurich  school  has  in  view  also  the  final  result  of 
analysis,  and  regards  the  fundamental  thoughts  and  impulses 
of  the  Unconscious,  as  symbols,  indicative  of  a  definite  line  of 
future  development.  We  must  admit  there  is,  however,  no 
scientific  justification  for  such  a  procedure,  because  our  present- 
day  science  is  based  as  a  whole  upon  causality.  But  causality 
is  only  one  principle,  and  psychology  essentially  cannot  be 
exhausted  by  causal  methods  only,  because  the  mind  lives  by 
aims  as  well.  Besides  this  disputable  philosophical  argument, 
we  have  another  of  much  greater  value  in  favour  of  our 
hypothesis,  namely,  that  of  vital  necessity.  It  is  impossible 
to  live  according  to  the  intimations  of  infantile  hedonism, 
or  according  to  a  childish  desire  for  power.  If  these  are  to 
be  retained  they  must  be  taken  symbolically.  Out  of  the 
symbolic  application  of  infantile  trends,  an  attitude  evolves  / 
which  may  be  termed  philosophic  or  religious,  and  these  terms 
characterise  sufficiently  the  lines  of  further  development  of 
the  individual.  The  individual  is  not  only  an  established 
and  unchangeable  complex  of  psychological  facts,  but  also 
an  extremely  changeable  entity.  By  exclusive  reduction  to 
causes,  the  primitive  trends  of  a  personality  are  reinforced; 
this  is  only  helpful  when  at  the  same  time  these  primitive 
tendencies  are  balanced  by  recognition  of  their  symbolic  value. 
Analysis  and  reduction  lead  to  causal  truth;  this  by  itself 
does  not  help  living,  but  brings  about  resignation  and  hope¬ 
lessness.  On  the  other  hand,  the  recognition  of  the  intrinsic 


X 


AUTHOR’S  PREFACE 


value  of  a  symbol  leads  to  constructive  truth  and  helps  us  to 
live.  It  furthers  hopefulness  and  the  possibility  of  future 
development. 

The  functional  importance  of  the  symbol  is  clearly  shown 
in  the  history  of  civilisation.  For  thousands  of  years  the 
religious  symbol  proved  a  most  efficacious  means  in  the  moral 
education  of  mankind.  Only  a  prejudiced  mind  could  deny 
such  an  obvious  fact.  Concrete  values  cannot  take  the  place 
of  the  symbol ;  only  new  and  more  efficient  symbols  can  be 
substituted  for  those  that  are  antiquated  and  outworn,  such 
as  have  lost  their  efficacy  through  the  progress  of  intellectual 
analysis  and  understanding.  The  further  development  of 
mankind  can  only  be  brought  about  by  means  of  symbols  which 
represent  something  far  in  advance  of  himself,  and  whose 
intellectual  meanings  cannot  yet  be  grasped  entirely.  The 
individual  unconscious  produces  such -symbols,  and  they  are 
of  the  greatest  possible  value  in  the  moral  development  of  the 
personality. 

Man  almost  invariably  has  philosophic  and  religious  views 
of  the  meaning  of  the  world  and  of  his  own  life.  There  are 
some  who  are  proud  to  have  none.  These  are  exceptions 
outside  the  common  path  of  mankind;  they  miss  an  im¬ 
portant  function  which  has  proved  itself  to  be  indispensable 
to  the  human  mind. 

In  such  cases  we  find  in  the  unconscious,  instead  of 
modern  symbolism,  an  antiquated  archaic  view  of  the  world 
and  of  life.  If  a  requisite  psychological  function  is  not  repre¬ 
sented  in  the  sphere  of  consciousness,  it  exists  in  the  un¬ 
conscious  in  the  form  of  an  archaic  or  embryonic  prototype. 

This  brief  resume  may  show  what  the  reader  cannot  find 
in  this  collection  of  papers.  The  essays  are  stations  on  the 
way  of  the  more  general  views  developed  above. 


Zurich, 

January ,  1916. 


C.  G.  JUNG. 


CONTENTS 


PAGK 

Editor’s  Preface . v 

Author’s  Preface . vii 


CHAPTER  I 

c 

On  the  Psychology  and  Pathology  of  so-called  Occult 

Phenomena  .  1 

Difficulty  of  demarcation  in  border-line  cases  between  epilepsy, 
hysteria,  and  mental  deficiency — Somnambulism  an  hysterical 
manifestation — A  case  of  spontaneous  somnambulism,  with  some 
characters  of  protracted  hysterical  delirium— Other  cases  quoted — 
Charcot’s  classification  of  somnambulism — Naef’s  and  Azam’s 
cases  of  periodic  amnesia — Proust’s  and  Boileau’s  wandering- 
impulse  cases — William  James’  case  of  Rev.  Ansel  Bourne — Other 
examples  showing  changes  in  consciousness — Hypnagogic  halluci¬ 
nations — Neurasthenic  mental  deficiency,  Bleuler’s  case — Sum¬ 
ming  up  of  Miss  Elsie  K.’s  case — Need  of  further  scientific 
investigation  in  the  field  of  psychological  peculiarities. 

Case  of  Somnambulilm  in  a  Person  with  Neuropathic  Inheri¬ 
tance  (Spiritualistic  Medium)  ......  16 

History  of  case — Accidental  discovery  of  her  mediumistic  powers — Her 
somnambulic  attacks,  “  attitudes  passionelles catalepsy,  tachy- 
pnoea,  trance  speeches,  etc. — Ecstasies — Her  conviction  of  the 
reality  of  her  visions — Her  dreams,  hypnagogic  and  hypnopompic 
visions — The  elevation  of  her  somnambulic  character — Mental 
thought  transference — S.  W.’s  double  life — Psychographic  com¬ 
munications — Description  of  stances — The  Prophetess  of  Prevorst 
— Automatic  writing — The  two  grandfathers — Appearance  of  other 
somnambulic  personalities. 

Development  of  the  Somnambulic  Personalities  .  .30 

The  psychograph  and  spiritualistic  wonders — The  grandfather  the 
medium’s  “guide”  or  “control” — Ulrich  von  Gerbenstein — The 
somnambulic  personalities  have  access  to  the  medium’s  memory 
— Ivenes — S.  W.’s  amnesia  for  her  ecstasies — Later  stances — 

Her  journeys  on  the  other  side — Oracular  sayings — Conventi— 
Ivenes’  dignity  and  superiority  to  her  “  guides  ” — Her  previous 
incarnations — Her  race-motherhood. 


v/ 


xii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Mystic  Science  and  Mystic  System  of  Powers  ....  40 

Her  growing  wilful  deception — The  waking  state — Her  peculiarities — 
Instability — Hysterical  tendencies — Misreading — Errors  of  dis¬ 
persed  attention  discussed. 

Semi-Somnambulism . 48 

Automatisms . 49 

Table  movements — Unconscious  motor  phenomena — Verbal  suggestion 
and  auto-suggestion  —  The  ^experimenter’s  participation  —  The 
medium’s  unconscious  response — Thought  reading — Table-tilting 
experiment,  illustrated — Experiments  with  beginners — Myers’  ex¬ 
periments  in  automatic  writing — Janet’s  conversation  with  Lucie’s 
subconsciousness — Example  of  the  way  the  subconscious  per¬ 
sonality  is  constructed — Hallucinations  appear  with  deepening 
hypnosis ;  some  contributing  factors — Comparison  between  dream 
symbols  and  appearance  of  somnambulic  personalities — Extension 
of  the  unconscious  sphere — The  somnambulist’s  thinking  is  in 
plastic  images,  which  are  made  objective  in  hallucinations — Why 
visual  and  not  auditory  hallucinations  occur — Origin  of  hypna¬ 
gogic  hallucinations — Those  of  Jeanne  d’Arc  and  others. 

The  Change  in  Character  ........  64 

Noticeable  in  S.  W.’s  case,  also  in  Mary  Reynolds’ — Association  with 
amnesic  disturbances — Influence  of  puberty  in  our  case — S.  W.’s 
systematic  anaesthesia — Ivenes  not  so  much  a  case  of  double  con¬ 
sciousness  as  one  in  which  she  dreams  herself  into  a  higher  ideal 
state — Similar  pathological  dreaming  found  in  the  lives  of  saints 
— Mechanism  of  hysterical  identification — S.  W.’s  dreams  break 
out  explosively — Their  origin  and  meaning,  and  their  subjective 
roots. 

Relation  to  the  Hysterical  Attack . 75 

\ 

In  considering  the  origin  of  attack,  two  moments,  viz.  irruption  of 
hypnosis,  and  the  psychic  stimulation  must  be  taken  into  account 
— In  susceptible  subjects  relatively  small  stimuli  suffice  to  bring 
about  somnambulism — Our  case  approaches  to  hysterical  lethargy 
— The  automatisms  transform  lethargy  into  hypnosis — Her  ego- 
consciousness  is  identical  in  all  states — Secondary  somnambulic 
personalities  split  off  from  the  primary  unconscious  personality — 

All  group  themselves  under  two  types,  the  gay-hilarious,  and  serio- 
religious — The  automatic  speaking  occurs — This  facilitates  the 
study  of  the  subconscious  personalities — Their  share  of  the  con¬ 
sciousness — The  irruption  of  the  hypnosis  is  complicated  by  an 
h}Tsterical  attack — The  automatism  arising  in  the  motor  area 
plays  the  part  of  hypnotist — When  the  hypnotism  flows  over  into 
the  visual  sphere  the  hysterical  attack  occurs — Grandfathers 
I.  and  II. — Hysterical  dissociations  belong  to  the  superficial  layers 
of  the  ego-complex — There  are  layers  beyond  the  reach  of  dis¬ 
sociation — Effect  of  the  hysterical  attack. 

Relationship  to  the  Unconscious  Personality  ....  82 

The  serio-religious  and  the  gay-hilarious  explained  by  the  anamnesis 

— Two  halves  of  S.  W.’s  character — She  is  conscious  of  the  painful  ✓ 
contrast — She  seeks  a  middle  way — Her  aspirations  bring  her  to 
the  puberty  dream  of  the  ideal  Ivenes — The  repressed  ideas  begin 
an  autonomous  existence — This  corroborates  Freud's  disclosures 
concerning  dreams — The  relation  of  the  somnambulic  ego-complex 
and  the  waking  consciousness. 


CONTENTS 


•  •  • 

xm 

PAGE 

Course . 83 

The  progress  of  this  affection  reached  its  maximum  in  4-8  weeks 
— Thenceforth  a  decline  in  the  plasticity  of  the  phenomena — 

All  degrees  of  somnambulism  were  observable — Her  manifest 
character  improved — Similar  improvements  seen  in  certain  cases 
of  double  consciousness — Conception  that  this  phenomenon  has 
a  teleological  meaning  for  the  future  personality — As  seen  in 
Jeanne  d’Arc  and  Mary  Reynolds  II. 

The  Unconscious  Additional  Creative  Work  ....  84 

S.  W.  shows  primary  susceptibility  of  the  unconscious — Binet  affirms 
the  susceptibility  of  the  hysteric  is  fifty  times  greater  than  that  of 
normal — Cryptomnesia,  a  second  additional  creation — Cryptom- 
nesic  picture  may  enter  consciousness  intra-physically — Uncon¬ 
scious  plagiarism  explained — Zarathustra  example — Glossolalia — 
Helen  Smith’s  Martian  language — The  names  in  Ivenes’  mystic 
System  show  rudimentary  glossolalia — The  Cryptomnesic  picture 
may  enter  consciousness  as  an  hallucination — Or  arrive  at 
consciousness  by  motor  automatism — By  automatisms  regions 
formerly  sealed  are  made  accessible  —  Hypermnesia— Thought¬ 
reading  a  prototype  for  extraordinary  intuitive  knowledge  of  som¬ 
nambulists  and  some  normal  persons — Association-concordance 
— Possibility  that  concept  and  feeling  are  not  always  clearly 
separated — S.  W.’s  mentality  must  be  regarded  as  extraordinary. 


CHAPTER  II 

The  Association  Method . 94 

Lecture  I. — Formula  for  test — Disturbances  of  reaction  as  complex- 
indicators — Discovery  of  a  culprit  by  means  of  test— Disturbances 
of  reaction  show  emotional  rather  than  intellectual  causes — Prin¬ 
cipal  types — Value  of  the  experiment  in  dealing  with  neurotics. 

Lecture  II. — Familiar  Constellations . 119 

Dr.  Fiirst’s  researches — Effect  of  environment  and  education  on  re¬ 
actions — Effect  of  parental  discord  on  children — Unconscious 
tendency  to  repetition  of  parental  mistakes — Case  of  pathological 
association-concordance  between  mother  and  daughter — Neurosis, 
a  counter-argument  against  the  personality  with  which  the 
patient  is  most  nearly  concerned — How  to  free  the  individual 
from  unconscious  attachments  to  the  milieu. 

Lecture  III. — Experiences  concerning  the  Psychic  Life  of 

the  Child . 132 

Importance  of  emotional  processes  in  children — Little  Anna’s  questions 
— Arrival  of  the  baby  brother — Anna’s  embarrassment  and  hostility 
— Introversion  of  the  child — Of  the  adolescent — Her  pathological 
interest  in  the  Messina  earthquake — The  meaning  of  her  fear — 
Anna’s  theories  of  birth — Meaning  of  her  questions — Her  father 
tells  her  something  of  origin  of  her  little  brother — Her  fears  now 
subside — The  unconscious  meaning  of  the  child’s  wish  to  sit  up 
late — Anna’s  equivalent  to  the  “  lumpf-theory  ”  of  little  Hans 
— The  stork-theory  again — Author’s  remarks  on  the  sexual  en¬ 
lightenment  of  the  child. 


XIV 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


CHAPTER  III 

The  Significance  of  the  Father  in  the  Destiny  of  the 

Individual . 156 

Psycho-sexual  relationship  of  child  to  father — Fiirst’s  experiments 
quoted — The  association  experiment  typical  for  man’s  psycho¬ 
logical  life — Adaptation  to  father — Father- complex  productive  of 
neurosis — Father-complex  in  man  with  masochistic  and  homo¬ 
sexual  trends — Peasant  woman  “  her  father’s  favourite,”  tragic 
effect  of  the  unconscious  constellation — Case  of  eight-year  old 
boy  with  enuresis — Enuresis  a  sexual  surrogate — Importance  of 
infantile  sexuality  in  life — Hence  necessity  for  psychoanalytic 
investigation — The  Jewish  religion  and  the  father -complex — 
Parental  power  guides  the  child  like  a  higher  controlling  fate — 

The  conflict  for  the  development  of  the  individual — Father- 
complex  in  Book  of  Tobias. 


CHAPTER  IV 

Contribution  to  the  Psychology  of  Rumour  .  .  .  .176 

Investigation  of  a  rumour  in  a  girls’  school — The  rumour  arose  from 
a  dream — Teacher’s  suspicions — Was  the  rumour  an  invention 
and  not,  as  alleged,  the  recital  of  a  dream? — Interpolations  in 
dreams — Collection  of  evidence — Duplication  of  persons  an  expres¬ 
sion  of  their  significance  both  in  dreams  and  in  dementia  praecox — 

The  additions  and  interpolations  represent  intensive  unconscious 
participation — Hearsay  evidence — Remarks. 

Epicrisis . 188 

The  dream  is  analysed  by  rumour — Psychoanalysis  explains  the  con¬ 
struction  of  rumour — The  dream  gives  the  watchword  for  the 
unconscious — It  brings  to  expression  the  ready-prepared  sexual 
complexes — Marie  X.’s  unsatisfactory  conduct  brought  her  under 
reproof — Her  indignation  and  repressed  feelings  lead  to  the  dream 
— She  uses  this  as  an  instrument  of  revenge  against  the  teacher 
— More  investigation  needed  in  the  field  of  rumour. 


CHAPTER  V 

The  Significance  of  Number  Dreams . 191 

Symbolism  of  numbers  has  acquired  fresh  interest  from  Freud’s 
investigations — Example  of  number  dream  of  middle-aged  man 
— How  the  number  originates — A  second  dream  also  contains  a 
number — Analysis — The  wife’s  dream  “  Luke  137  ” — This  dream  is 
an  example  of  cryptomnesia. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  Criticism  of  Bleuler’s  “  Theory  of  Schizophrenic  Negativism  ”  200 

Bleuler’s  concept  of  ambivalency  and  ambitendency — Every  tendency 
balanced  by  its  opposite — Schizophrenic  negativism — Bleuler’s 
summary  of  its  causes — The  painfulness  of  the  complex  necessitates 


CONTENTS 


xv 


a  censorship  of  its  expression — Thought  disturbance  the  result  of 
a  complex — Thought  pressure  due  to  schizophrenic  introversion — 
Resistance  springs  from  peculiar  sexual  development — Schizo¬ 
phrenia  shows  a  preponderance  of  introversion  mechanisms — The 
value  of  the  complex  theory  concept. 


CHAPTER  YII 


Psychoanalysis . 

Doctors  know  too  little  of  psychology,  and  psychologists  of  medicine — 
Strong  prejudice  aroused  by  Freud’s  conception  of  the  importance 
of  the  sexual  moment — The  commoner  prejudices  discussed — 
Psychoanalysis  not  a  method  of  suggestion  or  reasoning — The 
unconscious  content  is  reached  via  the  conscious — Case  of  neurotic 
man  with  ergophobia  for  professional  work — Case  of  neurotic 
woman  who  wants  another  child — Resistances  against  the  analyst 
— Dream  analysis  the  efficacious  instrument  of  analysis — The 
scientist’s  fear  of  superstition — The  genesis  of  dreams — Dream 
material  is  collected  according  to  scientific  method — The  rite  of 
baptism  analysed — When  the  unconscious  material  fails,  use  the 
conscious — The  physician’s  own  complexes  a  hindrance — Interpre¬ 
tations  of  Viennese  School  too  one-sided — Sexual  phantasies  both 
realistic  and  symbolic — The  dream  the  subliminal  picture  of  the 
individual’s  present  psychology — Symbolism  a  process  of  compre¬ 
hension  by  analogy — Analysis  helps  the  neurotic  to  exchange  his 
unconscious  conflict  for  the  real  conflict  of  lif<j* 


CHAPTER  VIII 


On  Psychoanalysis . 

Difficulties  of  public  discussion — Competence  to  form  an  opinion 
presupposes  a  knowledge  of  the  fundamental  literature — The 
abandoned  trauma  theory  —  Fixation — The  importance  of  the 
infantile  past — Analysis  discloses  existence  of  innumerable  un¬ 
conscious  phantasies — (Edipus  complex— Fixation  discussed — The 
critical  moment  for  the  outbreak  of  the  neurosis — Predisposition — 
Author’s  energic  view  point — Application  of  the  libido  to  the 
obstacle — Repression — Neurosis  an  act  of  adaptation  that  has 
failed — The  energic  view  does  not  alter  the  technique  of  analysis 
— Analysis  re-establishes  the  connection  between  the  conscious 
and  unconscious — Is  a  constructive  task  of  great  importance. 


CHAPTER  IX 

On  Some  Crucial  Points  in  Psychoanalysis  .... 

Letter  I.— IjOy  .......... 

The  dream  a  means  of  re-establishing  the  moral  equipoise — The  dreamer 
finds  therein  the  material  for  reconstruction — Methods  discussed 
—The  part  played  by  “  faith  in  the  doctor  ” — Abreaction. 


PAGE 


206 


226 


236 

236 


XVI 


CONTENTS 


Letter  II.— Jung . 

For  the  patient  any  method  that  works  is  good,  though  some  more 
valuable  than  others — The  doctor  must  choose  what  commends 
itself  to  his  scientific  conscience — Why  the  author  gave  up  the 
use  of  hypnotism — Three  cases  quoted — Breuer  and  Freud’s 
method  a  great  advance  in  psychic  treatment — Evolution  of 
author’s  views — Importance  of  conception  that  behind  the  neurosis 
lies  a  moral  conflict — Divergence  from  Freud’s  sexual  theory  of 
neurosis — The  doctor’s  responsibility  for  the  cleanliness  of  his 
own  hands — Necessity  that  the  psychoanalyst  should  be  analysed 
— He  is  successful  in  so  far  as  he  has  succeeded  in  his  own  moral 
development. 

Letter  III. — Loy 

Opportunism  v.  scientific  honour  —  Psychoanalysis  no  more  than 
hypnotism  gets  rid  of  “  transference  ” — Cases  of  enuresis  nocturna, 
and  of  washing-mania  treated  by  hypnosis — On  what  grounds 
should  such i useful  treatment  be  dispensed  with? — The  difficulty 
of  finding  a  rational  solution  for  the  moral  conflict — The  doctor’s 
dilemma  of  the  two  consciences. 

Letter  IV. — Jung . . 

Author’s  standpoint  that  of  the  scientist,  not  practical  physician— 
The  analyst  works  in  spite  of  the  transference — Psychoanalysis 
not  the  only  way — Sometimes  less  efficacious  than  any  known 
method — Cases  must  be  selected — For  the  author  and  his  patients 
it  is  the  best  way — The  real  solution  of  the  moral  conflict  comes 
from  within,  and  then  only  because  the  patient  has  been  brought 
to  a  new  standpoint. 

Letter  V. — Loy 

“  What  is  truth?  ” — Parable  of  the  prism — All  man  attains  is  relative 
truth — Fanaticism  is  the  enemy  to  science — Psychoanalysis  a 
method  of  dealing  with  basic  motives  of  the  human  soul — Must  not 
each  case  be  treated  individually  ? — Morals  are  above  all  relative. 

Letter  VI. — Jung . 

Definition  of  psychoanalysis — Technique — So-called  chance  is  the  law 
— Rules  well-nigh  impossible — The  patients’  unconscious  is  the 
analysts’  best  confederate — Questions  of  morality  and  education 
find  solutions  for  themselves  in  later  stages  of  analysis. 

Letter  VII. — Loy  .  . . 

Contradictions  in  psychoanalytic  literature — Should  the  doctor 
canalize  the  patient’s  libido?— Does  he  not  indirectly  suggest 
dreams  to  patient  ? 

Letter  VIII. — Jung 

Different  view-points  in  psychoanalysis — Vide  Freud’s  causality  and 
Adler’s  finality — Discussion  of  meaning  of  transference — The 
meaning  of  “  line  of  least  resistance  ” — Man  as  a  herd-animal 
Rich  endowment  with  social  sense — Should  take  pleasure  in  life 

_ _ Error  as  necessary  to  progress  as  truth — Patient  must  be 

trained  in  independence — Analyst  is  caught  in  his  own  net  if  he 
makes  hard  and  fast  rules — Through  the  analyst  s  suggestion 
only  the  outer  form,  never  the  content,  is  determined — The 
patient  may  mislead  the  doctor,  but  this  is  disadvantageous  and 
delays  him. 


PAGE 

238 


244 


248 


252 


256 


258 


261 


CONTENTS 


xvn 


PAGE 


Letter  IX. — Loy  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  267 

The  line  of  least  resistance  is  a  compromise  with  all  necessities — The 
analyst  as  accoucheur — The  neurotic’s  faith  in  authority — Altruism 
innate  in  man — He  advances  in  response  to  his  own  law. 

Letter  X. — Jung  . 270 

Transference  is  the  central  problem  of  analysis — It  may  be  positive 
or  negative — Projection  of  infantile  phantasies  on  the  doctor — 
Biological  “  duties  ” — The  psyche  does  not  only  react,  but  gives  its 
individual  reply — We  have  an  actual  sexual  problem  to-day — 
Evidences  thereof — We  have  no  real  sexual  morality,  only  a  legal 
attitude — Our  moral  views  are  too  undifferentiated — The  neurotic 
is  ill  not  because  he  has  lost  his  faith  in  morality,  but  because  he 
has  not  found  the  new  authority  in  himself. 


CHAPTER  X 

On  the  Importance  of  the  Unconscious  in  Psychopathology  .  278 


Content  of  the  unconscious — Defined  as  sum  of  all  psychical  processes 
below  the  threshold  of  consciousness — Answer  to  question  how 
does  the  unconscious  behave  in  neurosis  found  in  its  effect  on 
normal  consciousness — Example  of  a  merchant — Compensating 
function  of  the  unconscious  —  Symptomatic  acts  —  Nebuchad¬ 
nezzar’s  dream  discussed — Intuitive  ideas,  and  insane  manifesta¬ 
tions  both  emanate  from  the  unconscious — Eccentricities  pre-exist 
a  breakdown — In  mental  disorder  unconscious  processes  break¬ 
through  into  consciousness  and  disturb  equilibrium — True  also  in 
fanaticism  —  Pathological  compensation  in  case  of  paranoia — 
Unconscious  processes  have  to  struggle  against  resistances  in  the 
conscious  mind — Distortion — In  morbid  conditions  the  function 
of  the  unconscious  is  one  of  compensation. 


CHAPTER  XI 


Contribution  to  the  Study  of  Psychological  Types  .  .  . 


Striking  contrast  between  hysteria  and  dementia  prsecox — Extraver¬ 
sion  and  Introversion — Repression — Hysterical  transference  and 
repression  the  mechanism  of  extraversion — Depreciation  of  the 
external  world  the  mechanism  of  introversion — The  nervous  tem¬ 
perament  pre-exists  the  illness — Examples  of  the  two  types  from 
literature  —  James’s  Tough  and  Tender-minded — Warringer’s 
Sympathy  and  Abstraction — Schiller’s  Naif  and  Sentimental — 
Nietzsche’s  Apollien  and  Dionysian — Gross’s  Weakness  and  Rein¬ 
forcement  of  Consecutive  Function — Freud  and  Adler’s  Causalism 
and  Finality — The  fundamental  need  for  further  study  of  the  two 
types. 


CHAPTER  XII 


The  Psychology  of  Dreams 


299 


Psychic  structure  of  dream  contrasted  with  that  of  conscious  thought 
— Why  a  dream  seems  meaningless — Freud’s  empirical  evidence 
— Technique,  analysis  of  a  dream — The  causal  and  teleological 
view  of  the  dream — A  typical  dream  with  mythological  content — 
Compensating  function  of  dreams — Phallic  symbols. 


XV111 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  XIII 

The  Content  of  the  Psychoses . 

Discussion  of  psychological  v.  physical  origin  of  mental  disease 
Mediaeval  conception  of  madness  as  work  of  evil  spirits — Develop¬ 
ment  of  materialistic  idea  that  diseases  of  the  mind  are  diseases 
of  the  brain —Psychiatrists  have  come  to  regard  function  as 
accessory  to  the  organ — Analysis  of  patients  entering  Burgholzi 

Asylum _ A  quarter  only  show  lesions  of  the  brain — The  psychiatry 

of  the  future  must  advance  by  way  of  psychology— Cases  of 
dementia  prsecox  illustrating  recent  methods  in  psychiatry— The 
development  of  the  outbreak  at  a  moment  of  great  emotion 
Delusions  determined  by  deficiencies  in  the  patient’s  personality— 
Difficulties  of  investigation — Temporary  remission  of  mental 
symptoms  proves  that  reason  survives  in  spite  of  preoccupation 
with  diseased  thoughts— Case  of  dementia  praecox,  showing  exceed¬ 
ing  richness  of  phantasy  formations,  and  the  continuity  of  ideas. 

Part  II . . 

Freud’s  case  of  paranoid  dementia— (Schreber  case)— Two  ways  of 
regarding  Goethe’s  “Faust”— Retrospective  and  prospective  under¬ 
standing— The  scientific  mind  thinks  causally— This  is  but  one 
half  of  comprehension — Pathological  and  mythological  formations, 
both  structures  of  the  imagination— Flournoy’s  case— Misunder¬ 
standing  of  author’s  analysis  of  it— Adaptations  only  possible  to 
the  introverted  type  by  means  of  a  world-philosophy— The  extra- 
verted  type  always  arrives  at  a  general  theory  subsequently— Psy- 
chasthenia  is  the  neurosis  of  introversion,  hysteria  of  extraversion 
—These  diseases  typify  the  general  attitude  of  the  types  to  the 
phenomena  of  the  external  world— The  extreme  difference  in 
type  a  great  obstacle  to  common  understanding— The  general 
result  of  the  constructive  method  is  a  subjective  view,  not  a 
scientific  theory. 

CHAPTER  XIV 

New  Paths  in  Psychology  .  . 

The  evolution  of  psychology— How  little  it  has  had  to  ofier  to  the 
psychiatrist  till  Freud’s  discoveries— The  origin  and  reception  of 
psychoanalysis— The  prejudiced  attitude  of  certain  physicians— 
Freud’s  view  that  his  best  work  arouses  greatest  resistances  The 
Nancy  School — Breuer’s  first  case — “The  talking  cure”  The 
English  “  shock  theory  ” — Followed  by  the  trauma  theory  Dis¬ 
cussion  of  predisposition— Author’s  case  of  hysteria  following 
fright  from  horses— The  pathogenic  importance  of  the  hidden 
erotic  conflict— Humanity  evolves  its  own  restrictions  on  sexuality 
for  the  sake  of  the  advance  of  civilisation-  The  presence  of  a  grave 
sexual  problem  testifies  to  the  need  of  more  differentiated  concep¬ 
tions— The  erotic  conflict  largely  unconscious— Neurosis  repre¬ 
sents  the  unsuccessful  attempt  of  the  individual  to  solve  the 
problem  in  his  own  case — To  understand  the  idea  of  the  dream  as 
a  wish-fulfilment  the  manifest  and  latent  content  must  be  taken 
in  review— The  nature  of  unconscious  wishes— Dream  analysis 
leads  to  the  deepest  recesses  of  the  unconscious  The  analyst  com¬ 
pared  to  the  accoucheur— Comparison  with  Socrates’  technique— 
The  highest  development  of  the  individual  is  sometimes  in  com¬ 
plete  conflict  with  the  herd-morality— Psychoanalysis  provides  the 
patient  with  a  philosophy  of  life  founded  upon  insight— The  violent 
reaction  raging  round  psychoanalysis  is  a  proof  of  its  importance. 


Index 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


CHAPTER  I 

ON  THE  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PATHOLOGY  OF 
SO-CALLED  OCCULT  PHENOMENA 

In  that  wide  field  of  psychopathic  deficiency  where  Science 
has  demarcated  the  diseases  of  epilepsy,  hysteria  and  neuras¬ 
thenia,  we  meet  scattered  observations  concerning  certain 
rare  states  of  consciousness  as  to  whose  meaning  authors 
are  not  yet  agreed.  These  observations  spring  up  sporadi¬ 
cally  in  the  literature  on  narcolepsy,  lethargy,  automatisme 
ambulatoire ,  periodic  amnesia,  double  consciousness ,  somnam¬ 
bulism,  pathological  dreamy  states,  pathological  lying,  etc. 

These  states  are  sometimes  attributed  to  epilepsy,  some¬ 
times  to  hysteria,  sometimes  to  exhaustion  of  the  nervous 
system,  or  neurasthenia,  sometimes  they  are  allowed  all 
the  dignity  of  a  disease  sui  generis .  Patients  occasionally 
work  through  a  whole  graduated  scale  of  diagnoses,  from 
epilepsy,  through  hysteria,  up  to  simulation.  In  practice, 
on  the  one  hand,  these  conditions  can  only  be  separated  with 
great  difficulty  from  the  so-called  neuroses,  sometimes  even 
are  indistinguishable  from  them;  on  the  other,  certain 
features  in  the  region  of  pathological  deficiency  present  more 
than  a  mere  analogical  relationship  not  only  with  phenomena 
of  normal  psychology,  but  also  with  the  psychology  of  the 
supernormal,  of  genius.  Various  as  are  the  individual 
phenomena  in  this  region,  there  is  certainly  no  case  that 
cannot  be  connected  by  some  intermediate  example  with  the 
other  typical  cases.  This  relationship  in  the  pictures  pre¬ 
sented  by  hysteria  and  epilepsy  is  very  close.  Recently  the 
view  has  even  been  maintained  that  there  is  no  clean-cut 
frontier  between  epilepsy  and  hysteria,  and  that  a  difference 

1 


2 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


is  only  to  be  noted  in  extreme  cases.  Steffens  says,  for 
example 1 — “  We  are  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  in  essence 
hysteria  and  epilepsy  are  not  fundamentally  different,  but 
that  the  cause  of  the  disease  is  the  same  but  is  manifest  in 
a  diverse  form,  in  different  intensity  and  permanence.” 

The  demarcation  of  hysteria  and  certain  borderline  cases 
of  epilepsy,  from  congenital  and  acquired  psychopathic 
mental  deficiency,  likewise  presents  the  greatest  difficulties. 
The  symptoms  of  one  or  other  disease  everywhere  invade  the 
neighbouring  realm,  so  violence  is  done  to  the  facts  when 
they  are  split  off  and  considered  as  belonging  to  one  or  other 
realm.  The  demarcation  of  psychopathic  mental  deficiency 
from  the  normal  is  an  absolutely  impossible  task,  the 
difference  is  everywhere  only  “  more  or  less.”  The  classifi¬ 
cation  in  the  region  of  mental  deficiency  itself  is  confronted 
by  the  same  difficulty.  At  the  most,  certain  classes  can 
be  separated  off  which  crystallise  round  some  well-marked 
nucleus  through  having  peculiarly  typical  features.  Turn¬ 
ing  away  from  the  two  large  groups  of  intellectual  and 
emotional  deficiency,  there  remain  those  deficiencies  colouied 
pre-eminently  by  hysteria  or  epilepsy  (epileptoid)  or  neuras¬ 
thenia,  which  are  not  notably  deficiency  of  the  intellect  or  of 
feeling.  It  is  pre-eminently  in  this  region,  insusceptible  of 
any  absolute  classification,  that  the  above-named  conditions 
play  their  part.  As  is  well  known,  they  can  appear  as  part 
manifestations  of  a  typical  epilepsy  or  hysteria,  or  can  exist 
separately  in  the  realm  of  psychopathic  mental  deficiency, 
where  their  qualifications  of  epileptic  or  hysterical  are  often 
due  to  the  non-essential  accessory  features.  It  is  thus  the 
rule  to  count  somnambulism  among  hysterical  diseases, 
because  it  is  occasionally  a  phenomenon  of  severe  hysteria, 
or  because  mild  so-called  hysterical  symptoms  may  accom¬ 
pany  it.  Binet  says:  “ II  n’y  a  pas  une  somnambulisme, 
etat  nerveux  toujours  identique  a  lui-meme,  il  y  a  des  som- 
nambulismes.”  As  one  of  the  manifestations  of  a  severe 
hysteria,  somnambulism  is  not  an  unknown  phenomenon, 
but  as  a  pathological  entity,  as  a  disease  sui  generis,  it  must 

1  Arch.  f.  Psych.,  XXXIII.  p.  928. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  3 

be  somewhat  rare,  to  judge  by  its  infrequency  in  German 
literature  on  the  subject.  So-called  spontaneous  somnam¬ 
bulism,  resting  upon  a  foundation  of  hysterically-tinged 
psychopathic  deficiency,  is  not  a  very  common  occurrence 
and  it  is  worth  while  to  devote  closer  study  to  these  cases, 

for  they  occasionally  present  a  mass  of  interesting  observa¬ 
tions. 

Case  of  Miss  Elise  K.,  aged  40,  single ;  book-keeper  in  a 
large  business ;  no  hereditary  taint,  except  that  it  is  alleged 
a  brother  became  slightly  nervous  after  family  misfortune 
and  illness.  Well  educated,  of  a  cheerful,  joyous  nature, 
not  of  a  saving  disposition,  she  was  always  occupied  with 
some  big  idea.  She  was  very  kind-hearted  and  gentle,  did 
a  great  deal  both  for  her  parents,  who  were  living  in  very 
modest  circumstances,  and  for  strangers.  Nevertheless  she 
was  not  happy,  because  she  thought  she  did  not  under¬ 
stand  herself.  She  had  always  enjoyed  good  health  till  a 
few  years  ago,  when  she  is  said  to  have  been  treated  for  dila¬ 
tation  of  the  stomach  and  tapeworm.  During  this  illness 
her  hair  became  rapidly  white,  later  she  had  typhoid  fever. 
An  engagement  was  terminated  by  the  death  of  her  fiance 
from  paralysis.  She  had  been  very  nervous  for  a  year  and 
a  half.  In  the  summer  of  1897  she  went  away  for  change  of 
air  and  treatment  by  hydropathy.  She  herself  says  that  for 
about  a  year  she  has  had  moments  during  work  when  her 
thoughts  seem  to  stand  still,  but  she  does  not  fall  asleep. 
Nevertheless  she  makes  no  mistakes  in  the  accounts  at  such 
times.  She  has  often  been  to  the  wrong  street  and  then 
suddenly  noticed  that  she  was  not  in  the  right  place.  She 
has  had  no  giddiness  or  attacks  of  fainting.  Formerly  men¬ 
struation  occurred  regularly  every  four  weeks,  and  without  any 
pain,  but  since  she  has  been  nervous  and  overworked  it  has 
come  every  fourteen  days.  For  a  long  time  she  has  suffered 
from  constant  headache.  As  accountant  and  book-keeper  in  a 
large  establishment,  the  patient  has  had  very  strenuous  work, 
which  she  performs  well  and  conscientiously.  In  addition 
to  the  strenuous  character  of  her  work,  in  the  last  year  she 
had  various  new  worries.  The  brother  was  suddenly  divorced. 


4  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

In  addition  to  her  own  work,  she  looked  after  his  housekeep¬ 
ing  nursed  him  and  his  child  in  a  serious  illness,  and  so  on. 
To  recuperate,  she  took  a  journey  on  the  13th  September  to  see 
a  woman  friend  in  South  Germany.  The  great  joy  at  seeing 
her  friend,  from  whom  she  had  been  long  separated,  and  her 
participation  in  some  festivities,  deprived  her  of  her  rest. 
On  the  15th,  she  and  her  friend  drank  half  a  bottle  of  claret. 
This  was  contrary  to  her  usual  habit.  They  then  went  for 
a  walk  in  a  cemetery,  where  she  began  to  tear  up  flowers 
and  to  scratch  at  the  graves.  She  remembered  absolutely 
nothing  of  this  afterwards.  On  the  16th  she  remained  with 
her  friend  without  anything  of  importance  happening.  On 
the  17th  her  friend  brought  her  to  Zurich.  An  acquaintance 
came  with  her  to  the  Asylum ;  on  the  way  she  spoke  quite 
sensibly,  but  was  very  tired.  Outside  the  Asylum  they  met 
three  boys,  whom  she  described  as  the  “  three  dead  people 
she  had  dug  up.”  She  then  wanted  to  go  to  the  neighbour¬ 
ing  cemetery,  but  was  persuaded  to  come  to  the  Asylum. 

She  is  small,  delicately  formed,  slightly  anaemic.  The 
heart  is  slightly  enlarged  to  the  left,  there  are  no  murmurs, 
but  some  reduplication  of  the  sounds,  the  mitral  being 
markedly  accentuated.  The  liver  dulness  reaches  to  the 
border  of  the  ribs.  Patella-reflex  is  somewhat  increased, 
but  otherwise  no  tendon-reflexes.  There  is  neither  anes¬ 
thesia,  analgesia,  nor  paralysis.  Rough  examination  of  the 
field  of  vision  with  the  hands  shows  no  contraction.  The 
patient’s  hair  is  a  very  light  yellow- white  colour;  on  the 
whole  she  looks  her  years.  She  gives  her  history  and  tel  s 
recent  events  quite  clearly,  but  has  no  recollection  of  what' 
took  place  in  the  cemetery  at  C.  or  outside  the  Asylum. 
During  the  night  of  the  17th-18th  she  spoke  to  the  attendant 
and  declared  she  saw  the  whole  room  full  of  dead  people 
looking  like  skeletons.  She  was  not  at  all  frightened,  but 
was  rather  surprised  that  the  attendant  did  not  see  them 
too.  Once  she  ran  to  the  window,  but  was  otherwise  quiet. 
The  next  morning  while  still  in  bed,  she  saw  skeletons,  but 
not  in  the  afternoon.  The  following  night  at  four  o’clock 
she  awoke  and  heard  the  dead  children  in  the  neighbouring 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA 


cemetery  cry  out  that  they  had  been  buried  alive.  She 
wanted  to  go  out  to  dig  them  up,  but  allowed  herself  to  be  re¬ 
strained.  Next  morning  at  seven  o’clock  she  was  still  delirious, 
but  recalled  accurately  the  events  in  the  cemetery  at  C.  and 
those  on  approaching  the  Asylum.  She  stated  that  at  C. 
she  wanted  to  dig  up  the  dead  children  who  were  calling  her. 
She  had  only  torn  up  the  flowers  to  free  the  graves  and  to  be 
able  to  get  at  them.  In  this  state  Professor  Bleuler  explained 
to  her  that  later  on,  when  in  a  normal  state  again,  she  would 
remember  everything.  The  patient  slept  in  the  morning, 
afterwards  was  quite  clear,  and  felt  herself  relatively  well. 
She  did  indeed  remember  the  attacks,  but  maintained  a 
remarkable  indifference  towards  them.  The  following  nights, 
with  the  exception  of  those  of  the  22nd  and  the  25th 
September,  she  again  had  slight  attacks  of  delirium,  when 
once  more  she  had  to  deal  with  the  dead.  The  details  of 
the  attacks  differed,  however.  Twice  she  saw  the  dead  in 
her  bed,  but  she  did  not  appear  to  be  afraid  of  them,  but  she 
got  out  of  bed  frequently  because  she  did  not  want  “  to 
inconvenience  the  dead” ;  several  times  she  wanted  to  leave 
the  room. 

After  a  few  nights  free  from  attacks,  there  was  a  slight 
one  on  the  30th  Sept.,  when  she  called  the  dead  from  the 
window.  During  the  day  her  mind  was  clear.  On  the  3rd  of 
October  she  saw  a  whole  crowd  of  skeletons  in  the  drawing¬ 
room,  as  she  afterwards  related,  during  full  consciousness. 
Although  she  doubted  the  reality  of  the  skeletons,  she  could 
not  convince  herself  that  it  was  a  hallucination.  The  follow- 
ing  night,  between  twelve  and  one  o’clock — the  earlier  attacks 
were  usually  about  this  time — she  was  obsessed  with  the  idea 
of  dead  people  for  about  ten  minutes.  She  sat  up  in  bed, 
stared  at  a  corner  and  said:  “Well,  come  ! — but  they’re  not 
all  there.  Come  along !  Why  don’t  you  come  ?  The  room 
is  big  enough,  there’s  room  for  all ;  when  all  are  there,  I’ll 
come  too.”  Then  she  lay  down  with  the  words :  “  Now 
they’re  all  there,”  and  fell  asleep  again.  In  the  morning 
she  had  not  the  slightest  recollection  of  any  of  these  attacks. 
Very  short  attacks  occurred  in  the  nights  of  the  4th,  6th, 


6 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


9th,  13th  and  15th  of  October,  between  twelve  and  one 
o’clock.  The  last  three  occurred  during  the  menstrual  period. 
The  attendant  spoke  to  her  several  times,  showed  her  the 
lighted  street-lamps,  and  trees ;  but  she  did  not  react  to 
this  conversation.  Since  then  the  attacks  have  altogether 
ceased.  The  patient  has  complained  about  a  number  of 
troubles  which  she  had  had  all  along.  She  suffered  much 
from  headache  the  morning  after  the  attacks.  She  said 
it  was  unbearable.  Five  grains  of  Sacch.  lactis  promptly 
alleviated  this ;  then  she  complained  of  pains  in  both  fore¬ 
arms,  which  she  described  as  if  it  were  a  teno-synovitis.  She 
regarded  the  bulging  of  the  muscles  in  flexion  as  a  swelling, 
and  asked  to  be  massaged.  Nothing  could  be  seen  objec¬ 
tively,  and  no  attention  being  paid  to  it,  the  trouble  dis¬ 
appeared.  She  complained  exceedingly  and  for  a  long  time 
about  the  thickening  of  a  toenail,  even  after  the  thickened 
part  had  been  removed.  Sleep  was  often  disturbed.  She 
would  not  give  her  consent  to  be  hypnotised  for  the  night- 
attacks.  Finally  on  account  of  headache  and  disturbed  sleep 
she  agreed  to  hypnotic  treatment.  She  proved  a  good  subject, 
and  at  the  first  sitting  fell  into  deep  sleep  with  analgesia  and 
amnesia. 

In  November  she  was  again  asked  whether  she  could  now 
remember  the  attack  on  the  19th  September  which  it  had  been 
suggested  that  she  would  recall.  It  gave  her  great  trouble 
to  recollect  it,  and  in  the  end  she  could  only  state  the  chief 
facts,  she  had  forgotten  the  details. 

It  should  be  added  that  the  patient  was  not  superstitious, 
and  in  her  healthy  days  had  never  particularly  interested 
herself  in  the  supernatural.  During  the  whole  course  of 
treatment,  which  ended  on  the  14th  November,  great  in¬ 
difference  was  evinced  both  to  the  illness  and  the  cure.  Next 
spring  the  patient  returned  for  out-patient  treatment  of  the 
headache,  which  had  come  back  during  the  very  hard  work  of 
these  months.  Apart  from  this  symptom  her  condition  left 
nothing  to  be  desired.  It  was  demonstrated  that  she  had 
no  remembrance  of  the  attacks  of  the  previous  autumn,  not 
even  of  those  of  the  19th  September  and  earlier.  On  the 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA 


7 


other  hand,  in  hypnosis  she  could  recount  the  proceedings  in 
the  cemetery  and  during  the  nightly  disturbances. 

By  the  peculiar  hallucination  and  by  its  appearance  our 
case  recalls  the  conditions  which  Y.  Kraft-Ebing  has  de¬ 
scribed  as  “  protracted  states  of  hysterical  delirium.”  He 
says:  “Such  conditions  of  delirium  occur  in  the  slighter 
cases  of  hysteria.  Protracted  hysterical  delirium  is  built 
upon  a  foundation  of  temporary  exhaustion.  Excitement 
seems  to  determine  an  outbreak,  and  it  readily  recurs.  Most 
frequently  there  is  persecution-delirium  with  very  violent 
anxiety,  sometimes  of  a  religious  or  erotic  character.  Hallu¬ 
cinations  of  all  the  senses  are  not  rare,  but  illusions  of  sight, 
smell  and  feeling  are  the  commonest,  and  most  important. 
The  visual  hallucinations  are  especially  visions  of  animals, 
pictures  of  corpses,  phantastic  processions  in  which  dead 
persons,  devils,  and  ghosts  swarm.  The  illusions  of  hearing 
are  simply  sounds  (shrieks,  howlings,  claps  of  thunder)  or 
local  hallucinations  frequently  with  a  sexual  content.” 

This  patient’s  visions  of  corpses  occurring  almost  always 
in  attacks  recall  the  states  occasionally  seen  in  hystero- 
epilepsy.  There  likewise  occur  specific  visions  which,  in  con¬ 
trast  with  protracted  delirium,  are  connected  with  single 
attacks. 

(1)  A  lady  30  years  of  age  with  grande  hysterie  had 
twilight  states  in  which  as  a  rule  she  was  troubled  by  terrible 
hallucinations ;  she  saw  her  children  carried  away  from  her, 
wild  beasts  eating  them  up,  and  so  on.  She  has  amnesia  for 
the  content  of  the  individual  attacks.1 

(2)  A  girl  of  17,  likewise  a  semi-hysteric,  saw  in  her 
attacks  the  corpse  of  her  dead  mother  approaching  her  to 
draw  her  to  her.  Patient  has  amnesia  for  the  attacks.2 

These  are  cases  of  severe  hysteria  wherein  consciousness 
rests  upon  a  profound  stage  of  dreaming.  The  nature  of  the 
attack  and  the  stability  of  the  hallucination  alone  show  a 
certain  kinship  with  our  case,  which  in  this  respect  has 

1  Richer,  “Etudes  cliniques  sur  l’hystSro-epilepsie,”  p.  483. 

2  Idem ,  l.c.,  p.  487 ;  cp.  also  Erler,  Allg.  Zeitschrift  f.  Psychiatrie,  XXXV. 
p.  28 ;  also  Culerre,  Allg.  Zeit.  f.  Psych.,  XL VI.,  Litteraturbericht  356. 


8 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


numerous  analogies  with  the  corresponding  states  of  hysteria. 
For  instance,  with  those  cases  where  a  psychical  shock 
(rape,  etc.)  was  the  occasion  for  the  outbreak  of  hysterical 
attacks,  and  where  at  times  the  original  incident  is  lived  over 
again,  stereotyped  in  the  hallucination.  But  our  case  gets 
its  specific  mould  from  the  identity  of  the  consciousness  in 
the  different  attacks.  It  is  an  “Etat  Second  with  its  own 
memory  and  separated  from  the  waking  state  by  complete 
amnesia.  This  differentiates  it  from  the  above-mentioned 
twilight  states  and  links  it  to  the  so-called  somnambulic 
conditions. 

Charcot 1  divides  the  somnambulic  states  into  two  chief 
classes  : — 

1.  Delirium  with  well-marked  inco-ordination  of  repre¬ 
sentation  and  action. 

2.  Delirium  with  co-ordinated  action.  This  approaches 
the  waking  state. 

Our  case  belongs  to  the  latter  class. 

If  by  somnambulism  be  understood  a  state  of  systematised 
partial  waking,2  any  critical  review  of  this  affection  must 
take  account  of  those  exceptional  cases  of  recurrent  amnesias 
which  have  been  observed  now  and  again.  These,  apart  from 
nocturnal  ambulism,  are  the  simplest  conditions  of  systema¬ 
tised  partial  waking.  Naef’s  case  is  certainly  the  most 
remarkable  in  the  literature.  It  deals  with  a  gentleman  of 
82,  with  a  very  bad  family  history  presenting  numerous  signs 
of  degeneration,  partly  functional,  partly  organic.  In  con¬ 
sequence  of  over-work  he  had  at  the  age  of  17  a  peculiar 
twilight  state  with  delusions,  which  lasted  some  days  and  was 
cured  by  a  sudden  recovery  of  memory.  Later  he  was  subject 
to  frequent  attacks  of  giddiness  and  palpitation  of  the  heait 
and  vomiting  ;  but  these  attacks  were  never  attended  by  loss 
of  consciousness.  At  the  termination  of  some  feverish  illness 


1  Charcot  and  Guinon,  “  Progres  m£d.,  1891.  _ 

2  “  Somnambulism  must  be  conceived  as  systematised  partial  waking,  in 
which  a  limited,  connected  presentation-complex  takes  place.  Contrary  pre- 
sentations  do  not  occur,  at  the  same  time  the  mental  activity  is  earned  on 
with  increased  energy  within  the  limited  sphere  of  the  waking  (Lowenfeld, 
“  Hypnotism,”  1901,  p.  289). 


PSYCHOLOGY  OP  OCCULT  PHENOMENA 


9 


he  suddenly  travelled  from  Australia  to  Zurich,  where  he 
lived  for  some  weeks  in  careless  cheerfulness,  and  only  came 
to  himself  when  he  read  in  the  paper  of  his  sudden  dis¬ 
appearance  from  Australia.  He  had  a  total  and  retrograde 
amnesia  for  the  several  months  which  included  the  journey 
to  Australia,  his  sojourn  there  and  the  return  journey. 

Azam 1  has  published  a  case  of  periodic  amnesia.  Albert 
X.,  12£  years  old,  of  hysterical  disposition,  was  several 
times  attacked  in  the  course  of  a  few  years  by  conditions  of 
amnesia  in  which  he  forgot  reading,  writing  and  arithmetic, 
even  at  times  his  own  language,  for  several  weeks  at  a  stretch. 
The  intervals  were  normal. 

Proust 2  has  published  a  case  of  Automatisme  ambulatoire 
with  pronounced  hysteria  which  differs  from  Naef’s  in  the 
repeated  occurrence  of  the  attacks.  An  educated  man,  30 
years  old,  exhibits  all  the  signs  of  grande  hysterie ;  he  is 
very  suggestible,  has  from  time  to  time,  under  the  influence 
of  excitement,  attacks  of  amnesia  which  last  from  two  days 
to  several  weeks.  During  these  states  he  wanders  about, 
visits  relatives,  destroys  various  objects,  incurs  debts,  and 
has  even  been  convicted  of  “picking  pockets.” 

Boileau  describes  a  similar  case3  of  wandering-impulse. 
A  widow  of  22,  highly  hysterical,  became  terrified  at  the 
prospect  of  a  necessary  operation  for  salpingitis ;  she  left  the 
hospital  and  fell  into  a  state  of  somnambulism,  from  which 
she  awoke  three  days  later  with  total  amnesia.  During  these 
three  days  she  had  travelled  a  distance  of  about  60  kilometres 
to  fetch  her  child. 

William  James  has  described  a  case  of  an  “  ambulatory 
sort.” 4 

The  Rev.  Ansel  Bourne,  an  itinerant  preacher,  30  years 
of  age,  psychopathic,  had  on  a  few  occasions  attacks  of  loss 
of  consciousness  lasting  one  hour.  One  day  (January  17, 
1887)  he  suddenly  disappeared  from  Greene,  after  having 

1  Azam,  “  Hypnotisme — Double  conscience,”  etc.,  Paris,  1887.  For 
similar  cases,  cf.  Forbes  Winslow,  “  On  Obscure  Diseases,”  p.  335. 

2  Trib.  mid.,  March,  1890. 

3  Annal.  mid.  psychol .,  Jan.,  Feb.,  1892. 

4  “  Principles  of  Psychology,”  p.  391. 


10 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


taken  551  dollars  out  of  the  bank.  He  remained  hidden  for 
two  months.  During  this  time  he  had  taken  a  little  shop  under 
the  name  of  H.  J.  Browne,  in  Norriston,  Pa.,  and  had  care¬ 
fully  attended  to  all  purchases,  although  he  had  never  done 
the  like  before.  On  March  14,  1887,  he  suddenly  awoke  and 
went  back  home,  and  had  complete  amnesia  for  the  interval. 

Mesnet 1  publishes  the  following  case : — 

F.,  27  years  old,  sergeant  in  the  African  regiment,  was 
wounded  in  the  parietal  bone  at  Bazeilles.  Suffered  for  a 
year  from  hemiplegia,  which  disappeared  when  the  wound 
healed.  During  the  course  of  his  illness  the  patient  had 
attacks  of  somnambulism,  with  marked  limitation  of  con¬ 
sciousness  ;  all  the  senses  were  paralysed,  with  the  exception 
of  taste  and  a  small  portion  of  the  visual  sense.  The  move¬ 
ments  were  co-ordinated,  but  obstacles  in  the  way  of  their  per¬ 
formance  were  overcome  with  difficulty.  During  the  attacks 
he  had  an  absurd  collecting-mania.  By  various  manipu¬ 
lations  one  could  demonstrate  a  hallucinatory  content  in  his 
consciousness ;  for  instance,  when  a  stick  was  put  in  his  hand 
he  would  feel  himself  transported  to  a  battle  scene,  he  would 
feel  himself  on  guard,  see  the  enemy  approaching,  etc. 

Guinon  and  Sophie  Waltke 2  made  the  following  experi¬ 
ments  on  hysterics : — 

A  blue  glass  was  held  in  front  of  the  eyes  of  a  female 
patient  during  a  hysterical  attack;  she  regularly  saw  the 
picture  of  her  mother  in  the  blue  sky.  A  red  glass  showed 
her  a  bleeding  wound,  a  yellow  one  an  orange-seller  or  a  lady 
with  a  yellow  dress. 

Mesnet’s  case  reminds  one  of  the  cases  of  occasional 
attacks  of  shrinkage  of  memory. 

MacNish 3  communicates  a  similar  case. 

An  apparently  healthy  young  lady  suddenly  fell  into  an 
abnormally  long  and  deep  sleep — it  is  said  without  prodromal 

1  Mesnet,  “  De  Fautomatisme  de  la  m^moire  et  du  souvenir  dans  le 
somnambulisme  pathologique.”  Union  m6dicale,  Juillet,  1874.  Cf.  Binet, 
“Les  Alterations  de  la  personnalite,”  p.  37.  Cf.  also  Mesnet,  “  Somnambu¬ 
lisme  spontan6  dans  ses  rapports  avec  l’hysterie,”  Arch,  de  Neurol .,  Nr.  69, 1892. 

2  Arch,  de  Neur .,  Mai,  1891. 

3  “  Philosophy  of  Sleep,”  1830.  Cf.  Binet,  “  Les  Alterations,”  etc. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OP  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  11 


symptoms.  On  awaking  she  had  forgotten  the  words  for  and 
the  knowledge  of  the  simplest  things.  She  had  again  to 
learn  to  read,  write,  and  count;  her  progress  was  rapid  in 
this  re-learning.  After  a  second  attack  she  again  woke  in 
her  normal  state,  but  without  recollection  of  the  period  when 
she  had  forgotten  things.  These  states  alternated  for  more 
than  four  years,  during  which  consciousness  showed  continuity 
within  the  two  states,  but  was  separated  by  an  amnesia  from 
the  consciousness  of  the  normal  state. 

These  selected  cases  of  various  forms  of  changes  of  con¬ 
sciousness  all  throw  a  certain  light  upon  our  case.  Naef’s 
case  presents  two  hysteriform  eclipses  of  memory,  one  of 
which  is  marked  by  the  appearance  of  delusions,  and  the 
other  by  its  long  duration,  contraction  of  the  field  of  conscious¬ 
ness,  and  desire  to  wander.  The  peculiar  associated  impulses 
are  specially  clear  in  the  cases  of  Proust  and  Mesnet.  In 
our  case  the  impulsive  tearing  up  of  the  flowers,  the  digging 
up  of  the  graves,  form  a  parallel.  The  continuity  of  con¬ 
sciousness  which  the  patient  presents  in  the  individual  attacks 
recalls  the  behaviour  of  the  consciousness  in  MacNish’s  case ; 
hence  our  case  may  be  regarded  as  a  transient  phenomenon 
of  alternating  consciousness.  The  dream-like  hallucinatory 
content  of  the  limited  consciousness  in  our  case  does  not, 
however,  justify  an  unqualified  assignment  to  this  group  of 
double  consciousness.  The  hallucinations  in  the  second  state 
show  a  certain  creativeness  which  seems  to  be  conditioned 
by  the  auto-suggestibility  of  this  state.  In  Mesnet’s  case 
we  noticed  the  appearance  of  hallucinatory  processes  from 
simple  stimulation  of  taste.  The  patient’s  subconsciousness 
employs  simple  perceptions  for  the  automatic  construction 
of  complicated  scenes  which  then  take  possession  of  the 
limited  consciousness.  A  somewhat  similar  view  must  be 
taken  about  our  patient’s  hallucinations ;  at  least  the  ex¬ 
ternal  conditions  which  gave  rise  to  the  appearance  of  the 
hallucinations  seem  to  strengthen  our  supposition.  The  walk 
in  the  cemetery  induced  the  vision  of  the  skeletons ;  the  meet¬ 
ing  with  the  three  boys  arouses  the  hallucination  of  children 
buried  alive  whose  voices  the  patient  hears  at  night-time. 


12 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


She  arrived  at  the  cemetery  in  a  somnambulic  state,  which 
on  this  occasion  was  specially  intense  in  consequence  of 
her  having  taken  alcohol.  She  performed  actions  almost 
instinctively  about  which  her  subconsciousness  nevertheless 
did  receive  certain  impressions.  (The  part  played  here  by 
alcohol  must  not  be  under-estimated.  We  know  from  expe¬ 
rience  that  it  does  not  only  act  adversely  upon  these  condi¬ 
tions,  but,  like  every  other  narcotic,  it  gives  rise  to  a  certain 
increase  of  suggestibility.)  The  impressions  received  in 
somnambulism  subconsciously  form  independent  growths, 
and  finally  reach  perception  as  hallucinations.  Thus  our 
case  closely  corresponds  to  those  somnambulic  dream-states 
which  have  recently  been  subjected  to  a  penetrating  study 
in  England  and  France. 

These  lapses  of  memory,  which  at  first  seem  without 
content,  gain  a  content  by  means  of  accidental  auto-sugges¬ 
tion,  and  this  content  automatically  builds  itself  up  to  a 
certain  extent.  It  achieves  no  further  development,  probably 
on  account  of  the  improvement  now  beginning,  and  finally 
it  disappears  altogether  as  recovery  sets  in.  Binet  and  Fere 
have  made  numerous  experiments  on  the  implanting  of  sug¬ 
gestions  in  states  of  partial  sleep.  They  have  shown,  for 
example,  that  when  a  pencil  is  put  in  the  anaesthetic  hand 
of  a  hysteric,  letters  of  great  length  are  written  automatic¬ 
ally  whose  contents  are  unknown  to  the  patient  s  conscious¬ 
ness.  Cutaneous  stimuli  in  anesthetic  regions  are  sometimes 
perceived  as  visual  images,  or  at  least  as  vivid  associated 
visual  presentations.  These  independent  transmutations  of 
simple  stimuli  must  be  regarded  as  primary  phenomena  in 
the  formation  of  somnambulic  dream-pictures.  Analogous 
manifestations  occur  in  exceptional  cases  within  the  sphere 
of  waking  consciousness.  Goethe,1  for  instance,  states  that 

1  Goethe:  Zur  Naturivissenschaft  in  Allgemeinen.  “I  was  able,  when  I 
closed  my  eyes  and  bent  my  head,  to  conjure  the  imaginary  picture  of  a 
flower.  This  flower  did  not  retain  its  first  shape  for  a  single  instant,  but 
unfolded  out  of  itself,  new  flowers  composed  of  coloured  petals  and  green 
leaves.  They  were  not  natural  flowers,  but  phantastic  ones.  They  were,  as 
regular  in  shape  as  a  sculptor’s  rosettes.  It  was  impossible  to  fix  the  creation 
which  sprang  up,  nevertheless  the  dream  image  lasted  as  long  as  I  desired  it 
to  last ;  it  neither  faded  nor  got  stronger.” 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  13 


when  he  sat  down,  lowered  his  head  and  vividly  conjured  up 
the  image  of  a  flower,  he  saw  it  undergoing  changes  of  its 
own  accord,  as  if  entering  into  new  combinations. 

In  half-waking  states  these  manifestations  are  relatively 
frequent  in  the  so-called  hypnagogic  hallucination^.  The 
automatisms  which  the  Goethe  example  illustrates,  are  dif¬ 
ferentiated  from  the  truly  somnambulic,  inasmuch  as  the 
primary  presentation  is  a  conscious  one  in  this  case ;  the 
further  development  of  the  automatism  is  maintained  within 
the  definite  limits  of  the  original  presentation,  that  is,  within 
the  purely  motor  or  visual  region. 

If  the  primary  presentation  disappears,  or  if  it  is  never 
conscious  at  all,  and  if  the  automatic  development  overlaps 
neighbouring  regions,  we  lose  every  possibility  of  a  demarca¬ 
tion  between  waking  automatisms  and  those  of  the  somnam¬ 
bulic  state ;  this  will  occur,  for  instance,  if  the  presentation 
of  a  hand  plucking  the  flower  gets  joined  to  the  perception  of 
the  flower  or  the  presentation  of  the  smell  of  the  flower.  We 
can  then  only  differentiate  it  by  the  more  or  less.  In  one 
case  we  then  speak  of  the  “  waking  hallucinations  of  the 
normal,”  in  the  other,  of  the  dream-vision  of  the  somnam¬ 
bulists.  The  interpretation  of  our  patient’s  attacks  as 
hysterical  becomes  more  certain  by  the  demonstration  of  a 
probably  psychogenic  origin  of  the  hallucination.  This  is 
confirmed  by  her  troubles,  headache  and  tenosynovitis,  which 
have  shown  themselves  amenable  to  suggestive  treatment. 
The  etiological  factor  alone  is  not  sufficient  for  the  diagnosis 
of  hysteria;  it  might  really  be  expected  a  priori  that  in 
the  course  of  a  disease  which  is  so  suitably  treated  by  rest, 
as  in  the  treatment  of  an  exhaustion-state,  features  would 
be  observed  here  and  there  which  could  be  interpreted  as 
manifestations  of  exhaustion.  The  question  arises  whether 
the  early  lapses  and  later  somnambulic  attacks  could  not  be 
conceived  as  states  of  exhaustion,  so-called  “  neurasthenic 
crises.”  We  know  that  in  the  realm  of  psychopathic  mental 
deficiency,  there  can  arise  the  most  diverse  epileptoid  acci¬ 
dents,  whose  classification  under  epilepsy  or  hysteria  is  at 
least  doubtful.  To  quote  C.  Westphal:  “On  the  basis  of 


14  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

numerous  observations,  I  maintain  that  the  so-called  epilep- 
toid  attacks  form  one  of  the  most  universal  and  commonest 
symptoms  in  the  group  of  diseases  which  we  reckon  among 
the  mental  diseases  and  neuropathies ;  the  mere  appearance 
of  one  or  more  epileptic  or  epileptoid  attacks  is  not  decisive 
for  its  course  and  prognosis.  As  mentioned,  I  have  used  the 
concept  of  epileptoid  in  the  widest  sense  for  the  attack  itself.”  1 

The  epileptoid  moments  of  our  case  are  not  far  to  seek  ; 
the  objection  can,  however,  be  raised  that  the  colouring  of  the 
whole  picture  is  hysterical  in  the  extreme.  Against  this, 
however,  it  must  be  stated  that  every  somnambulism  is  not 
eo  ipso  hysterical.  Occasionally  states  occur  in  typical 
epilepsy  which  to  experts  seem  fully  parallel  with  somnam¬ 
bulic  states,2  or  which  can  only  be  distinguished  by  the 
existence  of  genuine  convulsions.3 

As  Diehl  shows,4  in  neurasthenic  mental  deficiency  crises 
also  occur  which  often  confuse  the  diagnosis.  A  definite 
presentation-content  can  even  create  a  stereotyped  repetition 
in  the  individual  crisis.  Lately  Morchen  has  published  a 
case  of  epileptoid  neurasthenic  twilight  state.5 

I  am  indebted  to  Professor  Bleuler  for  the  report  of  the 
following  case : — 

An  educated  gentleman  of  middle  age — without  epileptic 
antecedents — had  exhausted  himself  by  many  years  of  over- 
strenuous  mental  work.  Without  other  prodromal  symptoms 
(such  as  depression,  etc.)  he  attempted  suicide  during  a 
holiday ;  in  a  peculiar  twilight  state  he  suddenly  threw  him¬ 
self  into  the  water  from  a  bank,  in  sight  of  many  persons. 
He  was  at  once  pulled  out,  and  retained  but  a  fleeting  re¬ 
membrance  of  the  occurrence. 

Bearing  these  observations  in  mind,  neurasthenia  must 
be  allowed  to  account  for  a  considerable  share  in  the  attacks 

1  C.  Westphal,  “  Die  Agoraphobie,”  Arch.  f.  Psych.,  III.  p.  158. 

2  Pick,  Arch.  f.  Psych.,  XV.  p.  202. 

3  Allgem.  Zeitschr.  f.  Psych.,  XXI.  p.  78. 

4  “  Neurasthenische  Krisen,”  Munch.  Med.  Woclienschr.,  M'arz,  1902,  “When 
the  patients  first  describe  their  crises  they  generally  give  a  picture  that  makes 
us  think  of  epileptic  depression.  I  have  often  been  deceived  in  this  way.” 

5  Morchen,  “Ueber  Dammerzustade,”  Marburg,  1901,  Fall.  32,  p.  75. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  15 


of  our  patient,  Miss  E.  The  headaches  and  the  tenosynovitis 
point  to  the  existence  of  a  relatively  mild  hysteria,  generally 
latent,  but  becoming  manifest  under  the  influence  of  ex¬ 
haustion.  The  genesis  of  this  peculiar  illness  explains  the 
relationship  which  has  been  described  between  epilepsy, 
hysteria  and  neurasthenia. 

Summary. — Miss  Elise  K.  is  a  psychopathic  defective 
with  a  tendency  to  hysteria.  Under  the  influence  of  nervous 
exhaustion  she  suffers  from  attacks  of  epileptoid  giddiness 
whose  interpretation  is  uncertain  at  first  sight.  Under  the 
influence  of  an  unusually  large  dose  of  alcohol  the  attacks 
develop  into  definite  somnambulism  with  hallucinations, 
which  are  limited  in  the  same  way  as  dreams  to  accidental 
external  perceptions.  When  the  nervous  exhaustion  is  cured, 
the  hysterical  manifestations  disappear. 

In  the  region  of  psychopathic  deficiency  with  hysterical 
colouring,  we  encounter  numerous  phenomena  which  show, 
as  in  this  case,  symptoms  of  diverse  defined  diseases,  which 
cannot  be  attributed  with  certainty  to  any  one  of  them. 
These  phenomena  are  partially  recognised  to  be  independent, 
for  instance,  pathological  lying,  pathological  reveries,  etc. 
Many  of  these  states,  however,  still  await  thorough  scientific 
investigation;  at  present  they  belong  more  or  less  to  the 
domain  of  scientific  gossip.  Persons  with  habitual  hallucina¬ 
tions,  and  also  the  inspired,  exhibit  these  states ;  now  as  poet 
or  artist,  now  as  saviour,  prophet  or  founder  of  a  new  sect, 
they  draw  the  attention  of  the  crowd  to  themselves. 

The  genesis  of  the  peculiar  frame  of  mind  of  these  persons 
is  for  the  most  part  lost  in  obscurity,  for  it  is  only  very 
rarely  that  one  of  these  remarkable  personalities  can  be 
subjected  to  exact  observation.  In  view  of  the  often  great 
historical  importance  of  these  persons,  it  is  much  to  be  wished 
that  we  had  some  scientific  material  which  would  enable  us 
to  gain  a  closer  insight  into  the  psychological  development  of 
their  peculiarities.  Apart  from  the  now  practically  useless 
productions  of  the  pneumatological  school  at  the  beginning 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  German  scientific  literature  is 
very  poor  in  this  respect;  indeed,  there  seems  to  be  real 


16 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


aversion  from  investigation  in  this  field.  For  the  facts  so  far 
gathered  we  are  indebted  almost  exclusively  to  the  labours  of 
French  and  English  workers.  It  seems  at  least  desirable 
that  our  literature  should  be  enlarged  in  this  respect.  These 
considerations  have  induced  me  to  publish  some  observations 
which  will  perhaps  help  to  further  our  knowledge  about  the 
relationship  of  hysterical  twilight  states  and  enlarge  the 
problems  of  normal  psychology. 


Case  of  Somnambulism  in  a  Person  with  Neuropathic 
Inheritance  (Spiritualistic  Medium). 

The  following  case  was  under  my  observation  in  the  years 
1899  and  1900.  As  I  was  not  in  medical  attendance  upon 
Miss  S.  W.,  a  physical  examination  for  hysterical  stigmata 
could  unfortunately  not  be  made.  I  kept  a  complete  diary  of 
the  seances,  which  I  filled  up  after  each  sitting.  The  following 
report  is  a  condensed  account  from  these  sketches.  Out  of 
regard  for  Miss  S.  W.  and  her  family  a  few  unimportant  dates 
have  been  altered  and  a  few  details  omitted  from  the  story, 
which  for  the  most  part  is  composed  of  very  intimate  matters. 

Miss  S.  W.,  15£  years  old.  Reformed  Church.  The 
paternal  grandfather  was  highly  intelligent,  a.  clergyman 
with  frequent  waking  hallucinations  (generally  visions,  often 
whole  dramatic  scenes  with  dialogues,  etc.).  A  brother  of 
the  grandfather  was  an  imbecile  eccentric,  who  also  saw 
visions.  A  sister  of  the  grandfather,  a  peculiar,  odd  cha¬ 
racter.  The  paternal  grandmother  after  some  fever  in  her 
20th  year  (typhoid  ?)  had  a  trance  which  lasted  three  days,  and 
from  which  she  did  not  awake  until  the  crown  of  her  head 
had  been  burned  by  a  red-hot  iron.  During  stages  of  excite¬ 
ment  she  later  on  had  fainting  fits  which  were  nearly  always 
followed  by  short  somnambulism  during  which  she  uttered 
prophesies.  Her  father  was  likewise  a  peculiar,  original 
personality  with  bizarre  ideas.  All  three  had  waking  hallu¬ 
cinations  (second  sight,  forebodings,  etc.).  A  third  brother 
was  an  eccentric,  odd  character,  talented,  but  one-sided. 
The  mother  has  an  inherited  mental  defect  often  bordering 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  17 

on  psychosis.  The  sister  is  a  hysteric  and  visionary  and  a 
second  sister  suffers  from  “nervous  heart  attacks.”  Miss 
S.  W.  is  slenderly  built,  skull  somewhat  rachitic,  without  pro¬ 
nounced  hydrocephalus,  face  rather  pale,  eyes  dark  with  a 
peculiar  penetrating  look.  She  has  had  no  serious  illnesses. 
At  school  she  passed  for  average,  showed  little  interest,  was 
inattentive.  As  a  rule  her  behaviour  was  rather  reserved, 
sometimes  giving  place,  however,  to  exuberant  joy  and  ex¬ 
altation.  Of  average  intelligence,  without  special  gifts, 
neither  musical  nor  fond  of  books,  her  preference  is  for 
handwork— and  day  dreaming.  She  was  often  absent-minded, 
misread  in  a  peculiar  way  when  reading  aloud,  instead  of  the 
word  Ziege  (goat),  for  instance,  said  Gais,  instead  of  Treppe 
(stair),  Stege ;  this  occurred  so  often  that  her  brothers  and 
sisteis  laughed  at  her.  There  were  no  other  abnormalities; 
there  were  no  serious  hysterical  manifestations.  Her  family 
were  artisans  and  business  people  with  very  limited  interests. 
Books  of  mystical  content  were  never  permitted  in  the  family. 
Her  education  was  faulty,  there  were  numerous  brothers 
and  sisters,  and  thus  the  education  was  given  indiscrimin¬ 
ately,  and  in  addition  the  children  had  to  suffer  a  great  deal 
from  the  inconsequent  and  vulgar,  indeed  sometimes  rough 
treatment  of  their  mother.  The  father,  a  very  busy  business 
man,  could  not  pay  much  attention  to  his  children,  and  died 
when  S.  W.  was  not  yet  grown  up.  Under  these  uncomfort¬ 
able  conditions  it  is  no  wonder  that  S.  W.  felt  herself  shut  in 
and  unhappy.  She  was  often  afraid  to  go  home,  and  preferred 
to  be  anywhere  rather  than  there.  She  was  left  a  great  deal 
with  playmates  and  grew  up  in  this  way  without  much  polish. 
The  level  of  her  education  is  relatively  low  and  her  interests 
correspondingly  limited.  Her  knowledge  of  literature  is  also 
very  narrow.  She  knows  the  common  school  songs  by  heart, 
songs  of  Schiller  and  Goethe  and  a  few  other  poets,  as  well 
as  fragments  from  a  song  book  and  the  psalms.  Newspaper 
stories  represent  her  highest  level  in  prose.  Up  to  the  time 
of  her  somnambulism  she  had  never  read  any  books  of  a 
serious  nature.  At  home  and  from  friends  she  heard  about 
table-turning  and  began  to  take  an  interest  in  it.  She  asked 

2 


18  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

to  be  allowed  to  take  part  in  such  experiments,  and  her  desire 
was  soon  gratified.  In  July  1899,  she  took  part  a  few  times 
in  table-turnings  with  some  friends  and  her  brothers  and 
sisters,  but  in  joke.  It  was  then  discovered  that  she  was 
an  excellent  “  medium.”  Some  communications  of  a  serious 
nature  arrived  which  were  received  with  general  astonish¬ 
ment.  Their  pastoral  tone  was  surprising.  The  spirit  said 

he  was  the  grandfather  of  the  medium.  As  I  was  acquainted 
with  the  family  I  was  able  to  take  part  in  these  experiments. 
At  the  beginning  of  August,  1899,  the  first  attacks  of  som¬ 
nambulism  took  place  in  my  presence.  They  took  the  follow¬ 
ing  course:  S.  W.  became  very  pale,  slowly  sank  to  the 
ground,  or  into  a  chair,  shut  her  eyes,  became  cataleptic, 
drew  several  deep  breaths,  and  began  to  speak.  In  this  stage 
she  was  generally  quite  relaxed,  the  reflexes  of  the  lids  re¬ 
mained,  as  did  also  tactile  sensation.  She  was  sensitive  to 
unexpected  noises  and  full  of  fear,  especially  in  the  initial 

^She  did  not  react  when  called  by  name.  In  somnambulic 
dialogues  she  copied  in  a  remarkably  clever  way  her  dead 
relations  and  acquaintances  with  all  their  peculiarities,  so 
that  she  made  a  lasting  impression  upon  unprejudiced 
persons.  She  also  so  closely  imitated  persons  whom  she 
only  knew  from  descriptions,  that  no  one  could  deny  her  at 
least  considerable  talent  as  an  actress.  Gradually  gestures 
were  added  to  the  simple  speech,  which  finally  led  to  “  atti¬ 
tudes  passionelles  ”  and  complete  dramatic  scenes.  She  took 
up  postures  of  prayer  and  rapture  with  staring  eyes  and  spoke 
with  impassionate  and  glowing  rhetoric.  She  then  made  use 
exclusively  of  a  literary  German  which  she  spoke  with  ease 
and  assurance  quite  contrary  to  her  usual  uncertain  and 
embarrassed  manner  in  the  waking  state.  Her  movements 
were  free  and  of  a  noble  grace,  describing  most  beautifully 
her  varying  emotions.  Her  attitude  during  these  stages  was 
always  changing  and  diverse  in  the  different  attacks.  Now 
she  would  lie  for  ten  minutes  to  two  hours  on  the  sofa  or 
the  ground  motionless,  with  closed  eyes ;  now  she  assumed  a 
half-sitting  posture  and  spoke  with  changed  tone  and  speech  ; 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  19 

now  she  would  stand  up,  going  through  every  possible 
pantomimic  gesture.  Her  speech  was  equally  diversified  and 
without  rule.  Now  she  spoke  in  the  first  person,  but 
never  for  long,  generally  to  prophesy  her  next  attack ;  now 
she  spoke  of  herself  (and  this  was  the  most  usual)  in  the 
third  person.  She  then  acted  as  some  other  person,  either 
some  dead  acquaintance  or  some  chance  person,  whose  part 
she  consistently  carried  out  according  to  the  characteristics 
she  herself  conceived.  At  the  end  of  the  ecstasy  there 
usually  followed  a  cataleptic  state  with  flexibilitas  cerea, 
which  gradually  passed  over  into  the  waking  state.  The 
waxy  anaemic  pallor  which  was  an  almost  constant  feature 
of  the  attacks  made  one  really  anxious  ;  it  sometimes  occurred 
at  the  beginning  of  the  attack,  but  often  in  the  second 
half  only.  The  pulse  was  then  small  but  regular  and  of 
normal  frequency ;  the  breathing  gentle,  shallow,  or  almost 
imperceptible.  As  already  stated,  S.  W.  often  predicted  her 
attacks  beforehand;  just  before  the  attacks  she  had  strange 
sensations,  became  excited,  rather  anxious,  and  occasionally 
expressed  thoughts  of  death :  “  she  will  probably  die  in  one 
of  these  attacks ;  during  the  attack  her  soul  only  hangs  to 
her  body  by  a  thread,  so  that  often  the  body  could  scarcely 
go  on  living.  Once  after  the  cataleptic  attack  tachypnoea 
lasting  two  minutes  was  observed,  with  a  respiration  rate  of 
100  per  minute.  At  first  the  attacks  occurred  spontaneously, 
afterwards  S.  W.  could  provoke  them  by  sitting  in  a  dark 
corner  and  covering  her  face  with  her  hands.  Frequently 
the  experiment  did  not  succeed.  She  had  so-called  “  good  ” 
and  bad  days.  The  question  of  amnesia  after  the  attacks 
is  unfortunately  very  obscure.  This  much  is  certain,  that 
after  each  attack  she  was  quite  accurately  orientated  as  to 
what  she  had  gone  through  “  during  the  rapture.”  It  is, 
however,  uncertain  how  much  she  remembered  of  the  con¬ 
versations  in  which  she  served  as  medium,  and  of  changes 
m  her  surroundings  during  the  attack.  It  often  seemed 
that  she  did  have  a  fleeting  recollection,  for  directly  after 
waking  she  would  ask :  “  Who  was  here  ?  Wasn’t  X  or  Y 
here  ?  What  did  he  say  ?  ”  She  also  showed  that  she  was 


20  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY  •' 

superficially  aware  of  the  content  of  the  conversations.  She  I 
thus  often  remarked  that  the  spirits  had  communicated  to  her 
before  waking  what  they  had  said.  But  frequently  this  was 
not  the  case.  If,  at  her  request,  the  contents  of  the  trance 
speeches  were  repeated  to  her  she  was  often  annoyed  abou 
them.  She  was  then  often  sad  and  depressed  for  hours  ,i 
together,  especially  when  any  unpleasant  indiscretions  had 
occurred.  She  would  then  rail  against  the  spirits  and 
assert  that  next  time  she  would  beg  her  guides  to  keep 
such  spirits  far  away.  Her  indignation  was  not  feigned,  for 
in  the  waking  state  she  could  but  poorly  control  herself  and 
her  emotions,  so  that  every  mood  was  at  once  mirrored  in 
her  face.  At  times  she  seemed  but  slightly  or  not  at  all 
aware  of  the  external  proceedings  during  the  attack,  bhe 
seldom  noticed  when  any  one  left  the  room  or  came  in. 
Once  she  forbade  me  to  enter  the  room  when  she  was  await¬ 
ing  special  communications  which  she  wished  to  keep  secret 
from  me.  Nevertheless  I  went  in,  and  sat  down  with  the 
three  others  present  and  listened  to  everything.  er  eyes 
were  open  and  she  spoke  to  those  present  without  noticing 
me  She  only  noticed  me  when  I  began  to  speak,  which  , 
gave  rise  to  a  storm  of  indignation.  She  remembered 
better,  but  still  apparently  only  in  indefinite  outlines,  the 
remarks  of  those  taking  part  which  referred  to  the  trance 
speeches  or  directly  to  herself.  I  could  never  discover  any 

definite  rapport  in  this  connection. 

In  addition  to  these  great  attacks  which  seemed  to  follow 
a  certain  law  in  their  course,  S.  W.  produced  a  great  number 
of  other  automatisms.  Premonitions,  forebodings,  unaccount¬ 
able  moods  and  rapidly  changing  fancies  were  all  m  the  day  s 
work.  I  never  observed  simple  states  of  sleep.  On  the  other 
hand  I  soon  noticed  that  in  the  middle  of  a  lively  conversation 
S  W.  became  quite  confused  and  spoke  without  meaning  in  a 
peculiar  monotonous  way,  and  looked  in  front  of  her  dreami  y 
with  half-closed  eyes.  These  lapses  usually  lasted  but  a  few 
minutes.  Then  she  would  suddenly  proceed:  Tes  what 
did  vou  sav  ?  ”  At  first  she  would  not  give  any  paiticulais 
,LTth,»  .he  ™aa  reply  off-haiitl  that  .he  ~ 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  21 

a  little  giddy,  had  a  headache,  and  so  on.  Later  she  simply 
said:  “they  were  there  again/’  meaning  her  spirits.  She 
was  subjected  to  the  lapses,  much  against  her  will ;  she 
often  tried  to  defend  herself:  “I  do  not  want  to,  not  now, 
come  some  other  time ;  you  seem  to  think  I  only  exist  for 
you.”  She  had  these  lapses  in  the  streets,  in  business,  in 
fact  anywhere.  If  this  happened  to  her  in  the  street,  she 
leaned  against  a  house  and  waited  till  the  attack  was  over. 
During  these  attacks,  whose  intensity  was  most  variable,  she 
had  visions;  frequently  also,  especially  during  the  attacks 
where  she  turned  extremely  pale,  she  “  wandered  ”  ;  or  as 
she  expressed  it,  lost  her  body,  and  got  away  to  distant 
places  whither  her  spirits  led  her.  Distant  journeys  during 
ecstasy  strained  her  exceedingly ;  she  was  often  exhausted 
for  hours  after,  and  many  times  complained  that  the  spirits 
had  again  deprived  her  of  much  power,  such  overstrain  was 
now  too  much  for  her ;  the  spirits  must  get  another  medium, 
etc.  Once  she  was  hysterically  blind  for  half  an  hour  after 
one  of  these  ecstasies.  Her  gait  was  hesitating,  feeling  her 
way ;  she  had  to  be  led ;  she  did  not  see  the  candle  which 
was  on  the  table.  The  pupils  reacted.  Visions  occurred  in 
great  numbers  without  proper  “lapses”  (designating  by  this 
word  only  the  higher  grade  of  distraction  of  attention).  At 
first  the  visions  only  occurred  at  the  beginning  of  the  sleep. 
Once  after  S.  W.  had  gone  to  bed  the  room  became  lighted 
up,  and  out  of  the  general  foggy  light  there  appeared  white 
glittering  figures.  They  were  throughout  concealed  in  white 
veil-like  robes,  the  women  had  a  head-covering  like  a  turban, 
and  a  girdle.  Afterwards  (according  to  the  statements  of 
S.  W.),  “  the  spirits  were  already  there  ”  when  she  went  to 
bed.  Finally  she  saw  the  figures  also  in  bright  daylight,  but 
still  somewhat  blurred  and  only  for  a  short  time,  provided 
there  were  no  proper  lapses,  in  which  case  the  figures  became 
solid  enough  to  take  hold  of.  But  S.  W.  always  preferred 
darkness.  According  to  her  account  the  content  of  the  vision 
was  for  the  most  part  of  a  pleasant  kind.  Gazing  at  the 
beautiful  figures  she  received  a  feeling  of  delicious  blessed¬ 
ness.  More  rarely  there  were  terrible  visions  of  a  daemonic 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


22 

nature.  These  were  entirely  confined  to  the  night  or  to  dark 
rooms.  Occasionlly  S.  W.  saw  black  figures >  m  the jneigh- 
bouring  streets  or  in  her  room;  once  out  in  the  dark  court 
yard  she  saw  a  terrible  copper-red  face  which  suddenly  stared 
It  her  and  frightened  her.  I  could  not  learn  anything  satis¬ 
factory  about  the  first  occurrence  of  the  vision.  She  states 
that  once  at  night,  in  her  fifth  or  sixth  year,  she  saw  her 
«  guide,”  her  grandfather  (whom  she  had  never  known).  1 
could  not  get  any  objective  confirmation  from  her  relatives  of 
this  early  vision.  Nothing  of  the  kind  is  said  to  have  happened 
Site  to*  stoc.  With  the  exception  .(the  hjJteW. 
brightness  and  the  flashes,  there  were  no  rudimentaiy  hal 
cinations,  hut  from  the  beginning  they  were  of  a  systematic 
nature  involving  all  the  sense-organs  equally,  bo  tar  as 
“n«m. To  intellectual  reaction  to  thee,  phenomena  . 
is  remarkable  with  what  curious  sincerity  che  regarded 
dreams  Her  entire  somnambulic  development,  t 
numerable  puzzling  .vents,  seemed  to  he,  entir.l,  natural. 

ShT looked  St  he,  entire  paet  in  this  light.  I«S 
event  of  earlier  years  stood  to  her  in  necessary  and  clear 
relationship  to  her  present  condition.  She  ^s  happy  in  th 
consciousness  of  having  found  her  real  life  task.  Nato  y 
she  was  unswervingly  convinced  of  the  reality  of  ' 

I  often  tried  to  present  her  with  some  sceptical  explanat  o  , 

brt  . ho  in.»abl,  turned  thi.  ..id.,  in  her  »». IZt  ho 
she  did  not  clearly  grasp  a  reasoned  explanation, 
semi-somnambulic  state  she  regarded  it  as  senseless  in  v 
of  the  facts  staring  her  in  the  face.  She  once  said .  Id 
not  know  if  what  the  spirits  say  and  teach  me  is  tone, ,  neit 
Ho  linow  if  they  are  those  by  whose  names  they  call  the 
CTw/that  mv  spirits  exist  there  is  no  question.  I  see 

I  - touch  them,  I  cp.uk  to  thorn  .bout 

everything' I  It  «  loudly  »d  tej-iU  “  “  2 

y  i  »  QVip  absolutely  would  not  listen  to  tne 

ssrir  dy.»7  zzi  .2 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  28 


refused  to  experiment  if  I  was  there ;  hence  I  took  care  not 
to  express  my  doubts  and  thoughts  aloud.  From  her  im¬ 
mediate  relatives  and  acquaintances  she  received  undivided 
allegiance  and  admiration — they  asked  her  advice  about  all 
kinds  of  things.  In  time  she  obtained  such  an  influence 
upon  her  followers  that  three  of  her  brothers  and  sisters  like¬ 
wise  began  to  have  hallucinations  of  a  similar  kind.  Their 
hallucinations  generally  began  as  night-dreams  of  a  very  vivid 
and  dramatic  kind ;  these  gradually  extended  into  the  waking 
time,  partly  hypnagogic,  partly  hypnopompic.  A  married 
sister  had  extraordinary  vivid  dreams  which  developed  from 
night  to  night,  and  these  appeared  in  the  waking  consciousness ; 
at  first  as  obscure  illusions,  next  as  real  hallucinations,  but 
they  never  reached  the  plastic  clearness  of  S.  W.’s  visions. 
For  instance,  she  once  saw  in  a  dream  a  black  daemonic 
figure  at  her  bedside  in  animated  conversation  with  a  white, 
beautiful  figure,  which  tried  to  restrain  the  black  one ;  never¬ 
theless  the  black  one  seized  her  and  tried  to  choke  her,  then 
she  awoke.  Bending  over  her  she  then  saw  a  black  shadow 
with  a  human  contour,  and  near  by  a  white  cloudy  figure. 
The  vision  only  disappeared  when  she  lighted  a  candle. 
Similar  visions  were  repeated  dozens  of  times.  The  visions 
of  the  other  two  sisters  were  of  a  similar  kind,  but  less  intense. 
This  particular  type  of  attack  with  the  complete  visions  and 
ideas  had  developed  in  the  course  of  less  than  a  month, 
but  never  afterwards  exceeded  these  limits.  What  was  later 
added  to  these  was  but  the  extension  of  all  those  thoughts 
and  cycles  of  visions  which  to  a  certain  extent  were  already 
indicated  quite  at  the  beginning. 

As  well  as  the  “  great  ”  attacks  and  the  lesser  ones,  there 
must  also  be  noted  a  third  kind  of  state  comparable  to 
“  lapse  ”  states.  These  are  the  semi-somnambulic  states . 
They  appeared  at  the  beginning  or  at  the  end  of  the  “  great  ” 
attacks,  but  also  appeared  without  any  connection  with  them. 
They  developed  gradually  in  the  course  of  the  first  month. 
It  is  not  possible  to  give  a  more  precise  account  of  the  time 
of  their  appearance.  In  this  state  a  fixed  gaze,  brilliant 
eyes,  and  a  certain  dignity  and  stateliness  of  movement  are 


24 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


noticeable.  In  this  phase  S.  W.  is  herself,  her  own  som¬ 
nambulic  ego. 

She  is  fully  orientated  to  the  external  world,  but  seems 
to  stand  with  one  foot,  as  it  were,  in  her  dream-world.  She 
sees  and  hears  her  spirits,  sees  how  they  walk  about  in  the 
room  among  those  who  form  the  circle,  and  stand  first  by 
one  person,  then  by  another.  She  is  in  possession  of  a  clear 
remembrance  of  her  visions,  her  journeys  and  the  instructions 
she  receives.  She  speaks  quietly,  clearly  and  firmly  and 
is  always  in  a  serious,  almost  religious  frame  of  mind.  Her 
bearing  indicates  a  deeply  religious  mood,  free  from  all 
pietistic  flavour,  her  speech  is  singularly  uninfluenced  by 
her  guide’s  jargon  compounded  of  Bible  and  tract.  Her 
solemn  behaviour  has  a  suffering,  rather  pitiful  aspect.  She 
is  painfully  conscious  of  the  great  differences  between  her 
ideal  world  at  night  and  the  rough  reality  of  the  day.  This 
state  stands  in  sharp  contrast  to  her  waking  existence ;  there 
is  here  no  trace  of  that  unstable  and  inharmonious  creature, 
that  extravagant  nervous  temperament  which  is  so  charac¬ 
teristic  for  the  rest  of  her  relationships.  Speaking  with  her, 
you  get  the  impression  of  speaking  with  a  much  older  person 
who  has  attained  through  numerous  experiences  to  a  sure 
harmonious  footing.  In  this  state  she  produced  her  best 
results,  whilst  her  romances  correspond  more  closely  to  the 
conditions  of  her  waking  interests.  The  semi-somnambulism 
usually  appears  spontaneously,  mostly  during  the  table 
experiments,  which  sometimes  announced  by  this  means  that 
S.  W.  was  beginning  to  know  beforehand  every  automatic 
communication  from  the  table.  She  then  usually  stopped 
the  table-turning  and  after  a  short  time  went  more  or  less 
suddenly  into  an  ecstatic  state.  S.  W.  showed  herself  to 
be  very  sensitive.  She  could  divine  and  reply  to  simple 
questions  thought  of  by  a  member  of  the  circle  who  was 
not  a  “  medium,”  if  only  the  latter  would  lay  a  hand  on  the 
table  or  on  her  hand.  Genuine  thought-transference  with¬ 
out  direct  or  indirect  contact  could  never  be  achieved.  In 
juxtaposition  with  the  obvious  development  of  her  whole 
personality  the  continued  existence  of  her  earlier  ordinary 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  25 


character  was  all  the  more  startling.  She  imparted  with 
unconcealed  pleasure  all  the  little  childish  experiences,  the 
flirtations  and  love-secrets,  all  the  rudeness  and  lack  of 
education  of  her  parents  and  contemporaries.  To  every  one 
who  did  not  know  her  secret  she  was  a  girl  of  fifteen  and  a 
half,  in  no  respect  unlike  a  thousand  other  such  girls.  So 
much  the  greater  was  people’s  astonishment  when  they  got 
to  know  her  from  her  other  aspect.  Her  near  relatives  could 
not  at  first  grasp  this  change :  to  some  extent  they  never 
altogether  understood  it,  so  there  was  often  bitter  strife  in 
the  family,  some  of  them  taking  sides  for  and  others  against 
S.  W.,  either  with  enthusiastic  over-valuation  or  with  con¬ 
temptuous  censure  of  “  superstition.”  Thus  did  S.  W., 
during  the  time  I  watched  her  closely,  lead  a  curious,  con¬ 
tradictory  life,  a  real  “  double  life  ”  with  two  personalities 
existing  side  by  side  or  closely  following  upon  one  another 
and  contending  for  the  mastery.  I  now  give  some  of  the 
most  interesting  details  of  the  sittings  in  chronological  order. 

First  and  second  sittings,  August,  1899.  S.  W.  at  once 
undertook  to  lead  the  “communications.”  The  “psycho¬ 
graph,”  for  which  an  upturned  glass  tumbler  was  used,  on 
which  two  fingers  of  the  right  hand  were  laid,  moved  quick  as 
lightning  from  letter  to  letter.  (Slips  of  paper,  marked  with 
letter  and  numbers,  had  been  arranged  in  a  circle  round  the 
glass.)  It  was  communicated  that  the  “  medium’s  ”  grand¬ 
father  was  present  and  would  speak  to  us.  There  then 
followed  many  communications  in  quick  sequence,  of  a  most 
religious,  edifying  nature,  in  part  in  properly  made  words, 
partly  in  words  with  the  letters  transposed,  and  partly  in  a 
series  of  reversed  letters.  The  last  words  and  sentences  were 
produced  so  quickly  that  it  was  not  possible  to  follow  without 
first  inverting  the  letters.  The  communications  were  once 
interrupted  in  abrupt  fashion  by  a  new  communication,  which 
announced  the  presence  of  the  writer’s  grandfather.  On  this 
occasion  the  jesting  observation  was  made :  “  Evidently  the 
two  ‘spirits’  get  on  very  badly  together.”  During  this 
attempt  darkness  came  on.  Suddenly  S.  W.  became  very 
disturbed,  sprang  up  in  terror,  fell  on  her  knees  and  cried 


26 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


“  There,  there,  do  you  not  see  that  light,  that  star  there  ?  ” 
and  pointed  to  a  dark  corner  of  the  room.  She  became  more 
and  more  disturbed,  and  called  for  a  light  in  terror.  She  was 
pale,  wept,  “  it  was  all  so  strange  she  did  not  know  in  the 
least  what  was  the  matter  with  her.”  When  a  candle  was 
brought  she  became  calm  again.  The  experiments  were  now 
stopped. 

At  the  next  sitting,  which  took  place  in  the  evening,  two 
days  later,  similar  communications  from  S.  W.’s  grandfather 
were  obtained.  When  darkness  fell  S.  W.  suddenly  leaned 
back  on  the  sofa,  grew  pale,  almost  shut  her  eyes,  and  lay 
there  motionless.  The  eyeballs  were  turned  upwards,  the 
lid-reflex  was  present  as  well  as  tactile  sensation.  The 
breathing  was  gentle,  almost  imperceptible.  The  pulse  small 
and  weak.  This  attack  lasted  about  half  an  hour,  when 
S.  W.  suddenly  sighed  and  got  up.  The  extreme  pallor, 
which  had  lasted  throughout  the  whole  attack,  now  gave 
place  to  her  usual  pale  pink  colour.  She  was  somewhat 
confused  and  distraught,  indicated  that  she  had  seen  all 
sorts  of  things,  but  would  tell  nothing.  Only  after  urgent 
questioning  would  she  relate  that  in  an  extraordinary  waking 
condition  she  had  seen  her  grandfather  arm-in-arm  with  the 
writer’s  grandfather.  The  two  had  gone  rapidly  by  in  an 
open  carriage,  side  by  side. 

III.  In  the  third  seance,  which  took  place  some  days 
later,  there  was  a  similar  attack  of  more  than  half  an  hour’s 
duration.  S.  W.  afterwards  told  of  many  white,  transfigured 
forms  who  each  gave  her  a  flower  of  special  symbolic  signifi¬ 
cance.  Most  of  them  were  dead  relatives.  Concerning  the 
exact  content  of  their  talk  she  maintained  an  obstinate  silence. 

IV.  After  S.  W.  had  entered  into  the  somnambulic  state 
she  began  to  make  curious  movements  with  her  lips,  and 
made  swallowing  gurgling  noises.  Then  she  whispered 
very  softly  and  unintelligibly.  When  this  had  lasted  some 
minutes  she  suddenly  began  to  speak  in  an  altered  deep 
voice.  She  spoke  of  herself  in  the  third  person.  “  She  is 
not  here,  she  has  gone  away.”  There  followed  several  com¬ 
munications  of  a  religious  kind.  From  the  content  and  the 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  27 


way  of  speaking  it  was  easy  to  conclude  that  she  was  imitating 
her  grandfather,  who  had  been  a  clergyman.  The  content  of 
the  talk  did  not  rise  above  the  mental  level  of  the  “  com¬ 
munications.”  The  tone  of  the  voice  was  somewhat  forced, 
and  only  became  natural  when,  in  the  course  of  the  talk,  the 
voice  approximated  to  the  medium’s  own. 

(In  later  sittings  the  voice  was  only  altered  for  a  few 
moments  when  a  new  spirit  manifested  itself.) 

Afterwards  there  was  amnesia  for  the  trance-conversa¬ 
tion.  She  gave  hints  about  a  sojourn  in  the  other  world, 
and  she  spoke  of  an  undreamed-of  blessedness  which  she  felt. 
It  must  be  further  observed  that  her  conversation  in  the 
attack  followed  quite  spontaneously,  and  was  not  in  response 
to  any  suggestions. 

Directly  after  this  seance  S.  W.  became  acquainted  with 
the  book  of  Justinus  Kerner,  “Die  Seherin  von  Prevorst.” 
She  began  thereupon  to  magnetise  herself  towards  the  end  of 
the  attack,  partly  by  means  of  regular  passes,  partly  by 
curious  circles  and  figures  of  eight,  which  she  described 
symmetrically  with  both  arms.  She  did  this,  she  said,  to 
disperse  the  severe  headaches  which  occurred  after  the 
attacks.  In  the  August  seances,  not  detailed  here,  there 
were  in  addition  to  the  grandfather  numerous  spirits  of 
other  relatives  who  did  not  produce  anything  very  remark¬ 
able.  Each  time  when  a  new  one  came  on  the  scene  the 
movement  of  the  glass  was  changed  in  a  striking  way;  it 
generally  ran  along  the  rows  of  letters,  touching  one  or  other 
of  them,  but  no  sense  could  be  made  of  it.  The  ortho¬ 
graphy  was  very  uncertain  and  arbitrary,  and  the  first 
sentences  were  frequently  incomprehensible  or  broken  up 
into  a  meaningless  medley  of  letters.  Generally  automatic 
writing  suddenly  began  at  this  point.  Sometimes  automatic 
writing  was  attempted  during  complete  darkness.  The 
movements  began  with  violent  backward  jerks  of  the 
whole  arm,  so  that  the  paper  was  pierced  by  the  pencil. 
The  first  attempt  at  writing  consisted  of  numerous  strokes 
and  zigzag  lines  about  8  cm.  high.  In  later  attempts  there 
came  first  unreadable  words,  in  large  handwriting,  which 


28 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


gradually  became  smaller  and  clearer.  It  was  not  essentially 
different  from  the  medium’s  own.  The  grandfather  was 
again  the  controlling  spirit. 

Y.  Somnambulic  attacks  in  September,  1899.  S.  W.  sits 
upon  the  sofa,  leans  back,  shuts  her  eyes,  breathes  lightly 
and  regularly.  She  gradually  became  cataleptic,  the  catalepsy 
disappeared  after  about  two  minutes,  when  S.  W.  lay  in  an 
apparently  quiet  sleep  with  complete  muscular  relaxation. 
She  suddenly  begins  to  speak  in  a  subdued  voice  :  “  No  !  you 
take  the  red,  I’ll  take  the  white,  you  can  take  the  green,  and 
you  the  blue.  Are  you  ready  ?  We  will  go  now.”  (A  pause 
of  several  minutes  during  which  her  face  assumes  a  corpse¬ 
like  pallor.  Her  hands  feel  cold  and  are  very  bloodless.)  She 
suddenly  calls  out  with  a  loud,  solemn  voice :  “  Albert, 
Albert,  Albert,”  then  whispering:  “Now  you  speak,”  followed 
by  a  longer  pause,  when  the  pallor  of  the  face  attains  the 
highest  possible  degree.  Again,  in  a  loud  solemn  voice, 
“  Albert,  Albert,  do  you  not  believe  your  father  ?  I  tell  you 
many  errors  are  contained  in  N.’s  teaching.  Think  about 
it.”  Pause.  The  pallor  of  the  face  decreases.  “  He’s  very 
frightened.  He  could  not  speak  any  more.”  (These  words 
in  her  usual  conversational  tone.)  Pause.  “  He  will  certainly 
think  about  it.”  S.  W.  now  speaks  again  in  the  same  tone, 
in  a  strange  idiom  which  sounds  like  French  or  Italian, 
now  recalling  the  former,  now  the  latter.  She  speaks 
fluently,  rapidly,  and  with  charm.  It  is  possible  to  under¬ 
stand  a  few  words  but  not  to  remember  the  whole,  because 
the  language  is  so  strange.  From  time  to  time  certain 
words  recur,  as  wena ,  tuenes,  wenai,  wene,  etc.  The  abso¬ 
lute  naturalness  of  the  proceedings  is  bewildering.  From 
time  to  time  she  pauses  as  if  some  one  were  answering 
her.  Suddenly  she  speaks  in  German,  “  Is  time  already 
up?”  (In  a  troubled  voice.)  “Must  I  go  already?  Good¬ 
bye,  goodbye.”  With  the  last  words  there  passes  over  her 
face  an  indescribable  expression  of  ecstatic  blessedness.  She 
raises  her  arms,  opens  her  eyes, — hitherto  closed, — looks 
radiantly  upwards.  She  remains  a  moment  thus,  then  her 
arms  sink  slackly,  her  eyes  shut,  the  expression  of  her  face 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  29 


is  tired  and  exhausted.  After  a  short  cataleptic  stage  she 
awakes  with  a  sigh.  She  looks  around  astonished:  “I’ve 
slept  again,  haven’t  I?”  She  is  told  she  has  been  talking 
during  the  sleep,  whereupon  she  becomes  much  annoyed, 
and  this  increases  when  she  learns  she  has  spoken  in  a 
foreign  tongue.  “But  didn’t  I  tell  the  spirits  I  don’t  want 
it  ?  It  mustn’t  be.  It  exhausts  me  too  much.”  Begins  to 
cry.  “  Oh,  God  !  Oh,  God !  must  then  everything,  everything, 
come  hack  again  like  last  time ?  Is  nothing  spared  me?” 
The  next  day  at  the  same  time  there  was  another  attack. 
When  S.  W.  has  fallen  asleep  Ulrich  von  Gerbenstein  sud¬ 
denly  announces  himself.  He  is  an  entertaining  chatterer, 
speaks  very  fluently  in  high  German  with  a  North* German 
accent.  Asked  what  S.  W.  is  now  doing ;  after  much  circum¬ 
locution  he  explains  that  she  is  far  away,  and  he  is  meanwhile 
here  to  look  after  her  body,  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  the 
respiration,  etc.  He  must  take  care  that  meanwhile  no 
black  person  takes  possession  of  her  and  harms  her.  Upon 
urgent  questioning  he  relates  that  S.  W.  has  gone  with  the 
others  to  Japan,  to  appear  to  a  distant  relative  and  to 
restrain  him  from  a  stupid  marriage.  He  then  announces 
in  a  whisper  the  exact  moment  when  the  manifestation  takes 
place.  Forbidden  any  conversation  for  a  few  minutes,  he 
points  to  the  sudden  pallor  occurring  in  S.  W.,  remarking 
that  materialisation  at  such  a  great  distance  is  at  the  cost  of 
correspondingly  great  force.  He  then  orders  cold  bandages 
to  the  head  to  alleviate  the  severe  headache  which  would 
occur  afterwards.  As  the  colour  of  the  face  gradually 
becomes  more  natural  the  conversation  grows  livelier.  All 
kinds  of  childish  jokes  and  trivialities  are  uttered ;  suddenly 
U.  von  G.  says,  “I  see  them  coming,  but  they  are  still  very 
far  off;  I  see  them  there  like  a  star.”  S.  W.  points  to 
the  North.  We  are  naturally  astonished,  and  ask  why  they 
do  not  come  from  the  East,  whereto  U.  von  G.  laughingly 
retorts :  “  Oh,  but  they  come  the  direct  way  over  the  North 
Pole.  I  am  going  now;  farewell.”  Immediately  after  S.  W. 
sighs,  wakes  up,  is  ill-tempered,  complains  of  extremely  bad 
headache.  She  saw  U.  von  G.  standing  by  her  body ;  what 


30 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


had  he  told  us  ?  She  gets  angry  about  the  “  silly  chatter  ” 
from  which  he  cannot  refrain. 

VI.  Begins  in  the  usual  way.  Extreme  pallor ;  lies 
stretched  out,  scarcely  breathing.  Speaks  suddenly,  with 
loud,  solemn  voice :  “  Yes,  be  frightened  ;  I  am  ;  I  warn 
you  against  N/s  teaching.  See,  in  hope  is  everything  that 
belongs  to  faith.  You  would  like  to  know  who  I  am.  God 
gives  where  one  least  expects  it.  Do  you  not  know  me  ?  ” 
Then  unintelligible  whispering;  after  a  few  minutes,  she 
awakes. 

VII.  S.  W.  soon  falls  asleep ;  lies  stretched  out  on  the 
sofa.  Is  very  pale.  Says  nothing,  sighs  deeply  from  time 
to  time.  Casts  up  her  eyes,  rises,  sits  on  the  sofa,  bends 
forward,  speaks  softly:  “You  have  sinned  grievously,  have 
fallen  far.”  Bends  forward  still,  as  if  speaking  to  some  one 
who  kneels  before  her.  She  stands  up,  turns  to  the  right, 
stretches  out  her  hands,  and  points  to  the  spot  over  which 
she  has  been  bending.  “Will  you  forgive  her?”  she  asks, 
loudly.  “  Do  not  forgive  men,  but  their  spirits.  Not  she, 
but  her  human  body  has  sinned.”  Then  she  kneels  down, 
remains  quite  still  for  about  ten  minutes  in  the  attitude  of 
prayer.  Then  she  gets  up  suddenly,  looks  to  heaven  with 
ecstatic  expression,  and  then  throws  herself  again  on  her 
knees,  with  her  face  bowed  on  her  hands,  whispering  in¬ 
comprehensible  words.  She  remains  rigid  in  this  position 
several  minutes.  Then  she  gets  up,  looks  again  upwards 
with  a  radiant  countenance,  and  lies  down  on  the  sofa ;  and 
soon  after  wakes. 


Development  of  the  Somnambulic  Personalities. 

At  the  beginning  of  many  seances,  the  glass  was  allowed 
to  move  by  itself,  when  occasionally  the  advice  followed  in 
stereotyped  fashion  :  “  You  must  ask.” 

Since  convinced  spiritualists  took  part  in  the  seances,  all 
kinds  of  spiritualistic  wonders  were  of  course  demanded,  and 
especially  the  “protecting  spirits/’  In  reply,  sometimes 
names  of  well-known  dead  people  were  produced,  sometimes 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  81 


unknown  names,  e.g.  Berthe  de  Valours,  Elizabeth  von  Thier- 
felsenburg,  Ulrich  von  Gerbenstein,  etc.  The  controlling 
spirit  was  almost  without  exception  the  medium’s  grand¬ 
father,  who  once  explained:  “  he  loved  her  more  than  any  one 
in  this  world  because  he  had  protected  her  from  childhood 
up,  and  knew  all  her  thoughts.”  This  personality  produced 
a  flood  of  Biblical  maxims,  edifying  observations,  and  song- 
book  verses  ;  the  following  is  a  specimen  : — 

In  true  believing, 

To  faith  in  God  cling  ever  nigh, 

Thy  heavenly  comfort  never  leaving, 

Which  having,  man  can  never  die. 

Refuge  in  God  is  peace  for  ever, 

When  earthly  cares  oppress  the  mind 
Who  from  the  heart  can  pray  is  never 
Bowed  down  by  fate,  howe’er  unkind. 

Numerous  similar  elaborations  betrayed  by  their  banal, 
unctuous  contents  their  origin  in  some  tract  or  other.  When 
S.  W.  had  to  speak  in  ecstasy,  lively  dialogues  developed 
between  the  circle-members  and  the  somnambulic  personality. 
The  content  of  the  answers  received  is  essentially  just  the 
same  commonplace  edifying  stuff  as  that  of  the  psycho¬ 
graphic  communications.  The  character  of  this  personality 
is  distinguished  by  its  dry  and  tedious  solemnity,  rigorous 
conventionality  and  pietistic  virtue  (which  is  not  consistent 
with  the  historic  reality).  The  grandfather  is  the  medium’s 
guide  and  protector.  During  the  ecstatic  state  he  gives  all 
kinds  of  advice,  prophesies  later  attacks,  and  the  visions  she 
will  see  on  waking,  etc.  He  orders  cold  bandages,  gives 
directions  concerning  the  medium’s  lying  down  or  the  date 
of  the  seances.  His  relationship  to  the  medium  is  an  ex¬ 
tremely  tender  one.  In  liveliest  contrast  to  this  heavy  dream- 
person  stands  a  personality,  appearing  first  sporadically, 
in  the  psychographic  communications  of  the  first  seance.  It 
soon  disclosed  itself  as  the  dead  brother  of  a  Mr.  R.,  who 
was  then  taking  part  in  the  seance.  This  dead  brother,  Mr. 
P.  It.,  was  full  of  commonplaces  about  brotherly  love  towards 
his  living  brother.  He  evaded  particular  questions  in  all 


32 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


manner  of  ways.  But  be  developed  a  quite  astonishing 
eloquence  towards  the  ladies  of  the  circle  and  in  particular 
offered  his  allegiance  to  one  whom  Mr.  P.  B.  had  never 
known  when  alive.  He  affirmed  that  he  had  already  cared 
very  much  for  her  in  his  lifetime,  had  often  met  her  in  the 
street  without  knowing  who  she  was,  and  was  now  un¬ 
commonly  delighted  to  become  acquainted  with  her  in  this 
unusual  manner.  With  such  insipid  compliments,  scornful 
remarks  to  the  men,  harmless  childish  jokes,  etc.,  he  took  up 
a  large  part  of  the  seance.  Several  of  the  members  found 
fault  with,  the  frivolity  and  banality  of  this  “  spirit,”  where¬ 
upon  he  disappeared  for  one  or  two  seances,  but  soon 
reappeared,  at  first  well-behaved,  often  indeed  uttering 
Christian  maxims,  but  soon  dropped  back  into  the  old 
tone.  Besides  these  two  sharply  differentiated  personalities, 
others  appeared  who  varied  but  little  from  the  grandfather’s 
type ;  they  were  mostly  dead  relatives  of  the  medium.  The 
general  atmosphere  of  the  first  two  months’  seances  was 
accordingly  solemnly  edifying,  disturbed  only  from  time  to 
time  by  Mr.  P.  R.’s  trivial  chatter.  Some  weeks  after  the 
beginning  of  the  seances,  Mr.  B.  left  our  circle,  whereupon 
a  remarkable  change  took  place  in  Mr.  P.  B.’s  conversation. 
He  became  monosyllabic,  came  less  often,  and  after  a  few 
seances  vanished  altogether,  and  later  on  appeared  with 
great  infrequency,  and  for  the  most  part  only  when  the 
medium  was  alone  with  the  particular  lady  mentioned.  Then 
a  new  personality  forced  himself  into  the  foreground  ;  in 
contrast  to  Mr.  P.  R.,  who  always  spoke  the  Swiss  dialect, 
this  gentleman  adopted  an  affected  North-German  way  of 
speaking.  In  all  else  he  was  an  exact  copy  of  Mr.  P.  R.  His 
eloquence  was  somewhat  remarkable,  since  S.  W.  had  only  a 
very  scanty  knowledge  of  high  German,  whilst  this  new  per¬ 
sonality,  who  called  himself  Ulrich  von  Gerbenstein,  spoke 
an  almost  faultless  German,  rich  in  charming  phrases  and 
compliments.1 

Ulrich  von  Gerbenstein  is  a  witty  chatterer,  full  of 

1  It  must  be  noted  that  a  frequent  guest  in  S.  W.’s  home  was  a  gentleman 
who  spoke  high  German. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  33 


repartee,  an  idler,  a  great  admirer  of  the  ladies,  frivolous, 
and  most  superficial. 

During  the  winter  of  1899-1900  he  gradually  came  to 
dominate  the  situation  more  and  more,  and  took  over  one  by 
one  all  the  above-mentioned  functions  of  the  grandfather,  so 
that  under  his  influence  the  serious  character  of  the  seances 
disappeared. 

All  suggestions  to  the  contrary  proved  unavailing,  and  at 
last  the  seances  had  on  this  account  to  be  suspended  for 
longer  and  longer  intervals.  There  is  a  peculiarity  common 
to  all  these  somnambulic  personalities  which  must  be  noted. 
They  have  access  to  the  medium’s  memory,  even  to  the 
unconscious  portion,  they  are  also  au  courant  with  the  visions 
which  she  has  in  the  ecstatic  state,  but  they  have  only  the 
most  superficial  knowledge  of  her  phantasies  during  the  ecstasy. 
Of  the  somnambulic  dreams  they  know  only  what  they  occa¬ 
sionally  pick  up  from  the  members  of  the  circle.  On  doubtful 
points  they  can  give  no  information,  or  only  such  as  contradicts 
the  medium’s  explanations.  The  stereotyped  answer  to  these 
questions  runs:  “Ask  Ivenes.”1  “  Ivenes  knows.”  From 
the  examples  given  of  different  ecstatic  moments  it  is  clear 
that  the  medium’s  consciousness  is  by  no  means  idle  during 
the  trance,  but  develops  a  striking  and  multiplex  phantastic 
activity.  For  the  reconstruction  of  S.  W.’s  somnambulic 
self  we  have  to  depend  altogether  upon  her  several  state¬ 
ments  ;  for  in  the  first  place  her  spontaneous  utterances 
connecting  her  with  the  waking  self  are  few,  and  often 
irrelevant,  and  in  the  second  very  many  of  these  ecstatic 
states  go  by  without  gesture,  and  without  speech,  so  that  no 
conclusions  as  to  the  inner  happenings  can  afterwards  be 
drawn  from  the  external  appearances.  S.  W.  is  almost  totally 
amnesic  for  the  automatic  phenomena  during  ecstasy  as  far  as 
they  come  within  the  territory  of  the  new  personalities  of  her  ego. 
Of  all  the  other  phenomena ,  such  as  loud  talking ,  babbling,  etc., 
which  are  directly  connected  with  her  own  ego  she  usually  has  a 
clear  remembrance.  But  in  every  case  there  is  complete 
amnesia  only  during  the  first  few  minutes  after  the  ecstasy. 

1  Ivenes  is  the  mystical  name  of  the  medium’s  somnambulic  self. 

3 


34 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


Within  the  first  half-hour,  during  which  there  usually  prevails 
a  kind  of  semi-somnambulism  with  a  dream-like  manner, 
hallucinations,  etc.,  the  amnesia  gradually  disappears,  whilst 
fragmentary  memories  emerge  of  what  has  occurred,  but  in  a 
quite  irregular  and  arbitrary  fashion. 

The  later  seances  were  usually  begun  by  our  hands  being 
joined  and  laid  on  the  table,  whereon  the  table  at  once  began 
to  move.  Meanwhile  S.  W.  gradually  became  somnambulic, 
took  her  hands  from  the  table,  lay  back  on  the  sofa,  and  fell 
into  the  ecstatic  sleep.  She  sometimes  related  her  experiences 
to  us  afterwards,  but  showed  herself  very  reticent  if  strangers 
were  present.  After  the  very  first  ecstasy  she  indicated  that 
she  played  a  distinguished  role  among  the  spirits.  She  had 
a  special  name,  as  had  each  of  the  spirits ;  hers  was  Irenes ; 
her  grandfather  looked  after  her  with  particular  care.  In  the 
ecstasy  with  the  flower-vision  we  learnt  her  special  secret, 
hidden  till  then  beneath  the  deepest  silence.  During  the 
seances  in  which  her  spirit  spoke,  she  made  long  journeys, 
mostly  to  relatives,  to  whom  she  said  she  appeared,  or  she  found 
herself  on  the  Other  Side,  in  “  That  space  between  the  stars 
which  people  think  is  empty ;  but  in  which  there  are  really  very 
many  spirit-worlds.”  In  the  semi-somnambulic  state  which 
frequently  followed  her  attacks,  she  once  described,  in  peculiar 
poetic  fashion,  a  landscape  on  the  Other  Side,  “  a  wondrous, 
moon-lit  valley,  set  aside  for  the  races  not  yet  horn.”  She 
represented  her  somnambulic  ego  as  being  almost  completely 
released  from  the  body.  It  is  a  fully-grown  but  small  black¬ 
haired  woman,  of  pronounced  Jewish  type,  clothed  in  white 
garments,  her  head  covered  with  a  turban.  She  understands 
and  speaks  the  language  of  the  spirits,  “for  spirits  still, 
from  old  human  custom,  do  speak  to  one  another,  although 
they  do  not  really  need  to,  since  they  mutually  understand 
one  another’s  thoughts.”  She  “  does  not  really  always  talk 
with  the  spirits,  but  just  looks  at  them,  and  so  understands 
their  thoughts.”  She  travels  in  the  company  of  four  or 
five  spirits,  dead  relatives,  and  visits  her  living  relatives 
and  acquaintances  in  order  to  investigate  their  life  and  their 
way  of  thinking;  she  further  visits  all  places  which  lie 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  85 


within  the  radius  of  these  spectral  inhabitants.  From  her 
acquaintanceship  with  Kerner’s  book,  she  discovered  and 
improved  upon  the  ideas  of  the  black  spirits  who  are  kept 
enchanted  in  certain  places,  or  exist  partly  beneath  the 
earth’s  surface  (compare  the  “  Seherin  von  Prevorst  ”). 
This  activity  caused  her  much  trouble  and  pain ;  in  and 
after  the  ecstasy  she  complained  of  suffocating  feelings, 
violent  headache,  etc.  But  every  fortnight,  on  Wednesdays, 
she  could  pass  the  whole  night  in  the  garden  on  the  Other 
Side  in  the  company  of  holy  spirits.  There  she  was  taught 
everything  concerning  the  forces  of  the  world,  the  endless 
complicated  relationships  and  affinities  of  human  beings,  and 
all  besides  about  the  laws  of  reincarnation,  the  inhabitants 
of  the  stars,  etc.  Unfortunately  only  the  system  of  the 
world  forces  and  reincarnation  achieved  any  expression. 
As  to  the  other  matters  she  only  let  fall  disconnected 
observations.  For  example,  once  she  returned  from  a  rail¬ 
way  journey  in  an  extremely  disturbed  state.  It  was  thought 
at  first  something  unpleasant  had  happened,  till  she  managed 
to  compose  herself,  and  said,  “  A  star-inhabitant  had  sat 
opposite  to  her  in  the  train.”  From  the  description  which 
she  gave  of  this  being  I  recognised  a  well-known  elderly 
merchant  I  happened  to  know,  who  has  a  rather  unsym¬ 
pathetic  face.  In  connection  with  this  experience  she  related 
all  kinds  of  peculiarities  of  these  star-dwellers ;  they  have 
no  god-like  souls,  as  men  have,  they  pursue  no  science,  no 
philosophy,  but  in  technical  arts  they  are  far  more  advanced 
than  men.  Thus  on  Mars  a  flying-machine  has  long  been 
in  existence;  the  whole  of  Mars  is  covered  with  canals, 
these  canals  are  cleverly  excavated  lakes  and  serve  for 
irrigation.  The  canals  are  quite  superficial;  the  water  in 
them  is  very  shallow.  The  excavating  caused  the  inhabi¬ 
tants  of  Mars  no  particular  trouble,  for  the  soil  there  is 
lighter  than  the  earth’s.  The  canals  are  nowhere  bridged, 
but  that  does  not  prevent  communication,  for  everything 
travels  by  flying-machine.  Wars  no  longer  occur  on  the 
stars,  for  no  differences  of  opinion  exist.  The  star-dwellers 
have  not  human  bodies,  but  the  most  laughable  ones  possible, 


36 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


such  as  one  would  never  imagine.  Human  spirits  who  are 
allowed  to  travel  on  the  Other  Side  may  not  set  foot  on  the 
stars.  Equally,  wandering  star-dwellers  may  not  come  to 
the  earth,  but  must  remain  at  a  distance  of  twenty-five 
metres  above  the  earth’s  surface.  Should  they  transgress 
they  remain  in  the  power  of  the  earth,  and  must  assume 
human  bodies,  and  are  only  set  free  again  after  their  natural 
death.  As  men,  they  are  cold,  hard-hearted,  cruel.  S.  W. 
recognises  them  by  a  singular  expression  in  which  the 
“  Spiritual  ”  is  lacking,  and  by  their  hairless,  eyebrowless, 
sharply-cut  faces.  Napoleon  was  a  star-dweller. 

In  her  journeys  she  does  not  see  the  places  through 
which  she  hastens.  She  has  a  feeling  of  floating,  and  the 
spirits  tell  her  when  she  is  at  the  right  spot.  Then,  as  a 
rule,  she  only  sees  the  face  and  upper  part  of  the  person 
to  whom  she  is  supposed  to  appear,  or  whom  she  wishes  to 
see.  She  can  seldom  say  in  what  kind  of  surroundings  she 
sees  this  person.  Occasionally  she  saw  me,  but  only  my 
head  without  any  surroundings.  She  occupied  herself  much 
with  the  enchanting  of  spirits,  and  for  this  purpose  she 
wrote  oracular  sayings  in  a  foreign  tongue,  on  slips  of  paper 
which  she  concealed  in  all  sorts  of  queer  places.  An  Italian 
murderer,  presumably  living  in  my  house,  and  whom  she 
called  Conventi,  was  specially  displeasing  to  her.  She  tried 
several  times  to  cast  a  spell  upon  him,  and  without  my  know¬ 
ledge  hid  several  papers  about,  on  which  messages  were 
written ;  these  were  later  found  by  chance.  One  such,  written 
in  red  ink,  was  as  follows  : 


Marche.  4  govi 


Conventi 


Conventi,  go 
orden,  Astaf 


Ivenes. 


vent. 


Gen  palus,  vent  allis 
ton  prost  afta  ben  genallis. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  37 


Unfortunately,  I  never  obtained  any  translation  of  this. 
S.  W.  was  quite  inaccessible  in  this  matter.  Occasionally 
the  somnambulic  Ivenes  speaks  directly  to  the  public.  She 
does  so  in  dignified  fashion,  rather  precociously ;  but  she  is 
not  wearisomely  unctuous  and  impossibly  twaddling  as  are 
her  two  guides ;  she  is  a  serious,  mature  person,  devout  and 
pious,  full  of  womanly  tenderness  and  great  modesty,  always 
yielding  to  the  judgments  of  others.  This  expression  of 
plaintive  emotion  and  melancholy  resignation  is  peculiar  to 
her.  She  looks  beyond  this  world,  and  unwillingly  returns  to 
reality;  she  bemoans  her  hard  lot,  and  her  unsympathetic 
family  surroundings.  Associated  with  this  there  is  something 
elevated  about  her ;  she  commands  her  spirits,  despises  the 
twaddling  chatter  of  Gerbenstein,  consoles  others,  directs 
those  in  distress,  warns  and  protects  them  from  dangers  to 
body  and  soul.  She  is  the  intermediary  for  the  entire  intel¬ 
lectual  output  of  all  manifestations,  but  she  herself  ascribes 
it  to  the  direction  of  the  spirits.  It  is  Ivenes  who  entirely 
controls  S.  W.’s  semi-somnambulic  state. 

In  semi-somnambulism  S.  W.  gave  some  of  those  taking 
part  in  the  seances  the  opportunity  to  compare  her  with 
the  “  Seherin  von  Prevorst  ”  (Prophetess  of  Prevorst).  This 
suggestion  was  not  without  results.  S.  W.  gave  hints  of 
earlier  existences  which  she  had  already  lived  through,  and 
after  a  few  weeks  she  disclosed  suddenly  a  whole  system 
of  reincarnations,  although  she  had  never  before  mentioned 
anything  of  the  kind.  Ivenes  is  a  spiritual  being  who  is 
something  more  than  the  spirits  of  other  human  beings. 
Every  human  spirit  must  incorporate  himself  twice  in  the 
course  of  the  centuries.  But  Ivenes  must  incorporate  herself 
at  least  once  every  two  hundred  years ;  besides  herself  only 
two  other  persons  have  participated  in  this  fate,  namely, 
Swedenborg  and  Miss  Florence  Cook  (Crookes’s  famous 
medium).  S.  W.  calls  these  two  personages  her  brother  and 
sister.  She  gave  no  information  about  their  pre-existences. 
In  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century  Ivenes  was  Frau 
Hauffe,  the  Prophetess  of  Prevorst;  at  the  end  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  a  clergyman’s  wife  in  central  Germany 


38 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


(locality  unknown).  As  the  latter  she  was  seduced  by  Goethe 
and  bore  him  a  child.  In  the  fifteenth  century  she  was  a 
Saxon  countess,  and  had  the  poetic  name  of  Thierfelsenburg. 
Ulrich  von  Gerbenstein  is  a  relative  from  that  line.  The 
interval  of  300  years,  and  her  adventure  with  Goethe,  must 
be  atoned  for  by  the  sorrows  of  the  Prophetess  of  Prevorst. 
In  the  thirteenth  century  she  was  a  noblewoman  of  Southern 
France,  called  de  Valours,  and  was  burnt  as  a  witch. 
From  the  thirteenth  century  to  the  Christian  persecution 
under  Nero  there  were  numerous  reincarnations  of  which 
S.  W.  could  give  no  detailed  account.  In  the  Christian 
persecution  under  Nero  she  played  a  martyr’s  part.  Then 
comes  a  period  of  obscurity  till  the  time  of  David,  when 
Ivenes  was  an  ordinary  Jewess.  After  her  death  she  received 
from  Astaf,  an  angel  from  a  high  heaven,  the  mandate  for 
her  future  wonderful  career.  In  all  her  pre-existences  she 
was  a  medium  and  an  intermediary  in  the  intercourse 
between  this  side  and  the  other.  Her  brothers  and  sisters 
are  equally  old  and  have  the  like  vocation.  In  her  various 
pre -existences  she  was  sometimes  married,  and  in  this  way 
gradually  founded  a  whole  system  of  relationships  with 
whose  endless  complicated  inter-relations  she  occupied  her¬ 
self  in  many  ecstasies.  Thus,  for  example,  about  the  eighth 
century  she  was  the  mother  of  her  earthly  father  and,  more¬ 
over,  of  her  grandfather,  and  mine.  Hence  the  striking 
friendship  of  these  two  old  gentlemen,  otherwise  strangers. 
As  Mme.  de  Valours  she  was  the  present  writer’s  mother. 
When  she  was  burnt  as  a  witch  the  writer  took  it  much  to 
heart,  and  went  into  a  cloister  at  Rouen,  wore  a  grey  habit, 
became  Prior,  wrote  a  work  on  Botany  and  died  at  over  eighty 
years  of  age.  In  the  refectory  of  the  cloister  there  hung  a 
picture  of  Mme.  de  Valours,  in  which  she  was  depicted  in  a 
half-reclining  position.  (S.  W.  in  the  semi-somnambulic 
state  often  took  this  position  on  the  sofa.  It  corre¬ 
sponds  exactly  to  that  of  Mme.  Recamier  in  David’s  well- 
known  picture.)  A  gentleman  who  often  took  part  in  the 
seances,  and  had  some  slight  resemblance  to  the  writer, 
was  also  one  of  her  sons  from  that  period.  Around  this  core 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  89 


of  relationship  there  grouped  themselves,  more  or  less  inti¬ 
mately  connected,  all  persons  in  any  way  related  or  known 
to  her.  One  came  from  the  fifteenth  century,  another — a 
cousin — from  the  eighteenth  century,  and  so  on. 

From  the  three  great  family  stocks  grew  by  far  the 
greater  part  of  the  present  European  peoples.  She  and  her 
brothers  and  sisters  are  descended  from  Adam,  who  arose  by 
materialisation ;  the  other  then-existing  families,  from  whom 
Cain  took  his  wife,  were  descended  from  apes.  S.  W.  pro¬ 
duced  from  this  circle  of  relationship  an  extensive  family- 
gossip,  a  very  flood  of  romantic  stories,  piquant  adventures, 
etc.  Sometimes  the  target  of  her  romances  was  a  lady 
acquaintance  of  the  writer’s  who  for  some  undiscoverable 
reason  was  peculiarly  antipathetic  to  her.  She  declared 
that  this  lady  was  the  incarnation  of  a  celebrated  Parisian 
poisoner,  who  had  achieved  great  notoriety  in  the  eighteenth 
century.  She  maintained  that  this  lady  still  continued  her 
dangerous  work,  but  in  a  much  more  ingenious  way  than 
formerly ;  through  the  inspiration  of  the  wicked  spirits  who 
accompany  her  she  had  discovered  a  liquid  which  when 
merely  exposed  to  the  air  attracted  tubercle  bacilli  and 
formed  a  splendid  developing  medium  for  them.  By  means 
of  this  liquid,  which  she  was  wont  to  mix  with  the  food, 
the  lady  had  brought  about  the  death  of  her  husband  (who 
had  indeed  died  from  tuberculosis) ;  also  one  of  her  lovers, 
and  her  own  brother,  for  the  sake  of  his  inheritance.  Her 
eldest  son  was  an  illegitimate  child  by  her  lover.  As  a 
widow  she  had  secretly  borne  to  another  lover  an  illegitimate 
child,  and  finally  she  had  had  an  unnatural  relationship  with 
her  own  brother  (who  was  later  on  poisoned).  In  this  way 
S.  W.  spun  innumerable  stories,  in  which  she  believed  quite 
implicitly.  The  persons  of  these  stories  appeared  in  the 
drama  of  her  visions,  as  did  the  lady  before  referred  to,  going 
through  the  pantomime  of  making  confession  and  receiving 
absolution  of  sins.  Everything  interesting  occurring  in  her 
surroundings  was  incorporated  in  this  system  of  romances, 
and  given  an  order  in  the  network  of  relationships  with  a 
more  or  less  exact  statement  as  to  their  pre-existences  and 


40 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


the  spirits  influencing  them.  It  fared  thus  with  all  who 
made  S.  W.’s  acquaintance :  they  were  valued  at  a  second 
or  first  incarnation,  according  as  they  possessed  a  marked 
or  indefinite  character.  They  were  generally  described  as 
relatives,  and  always  exactly  in  the  same  definite  way. 
Only  subsequently,  often  several  weeks  later,  after  an 
ecstasy,  there  would  make  its  appearance  a  new  com¬ 
plicated  romance  which  explained  the  striking  relationship 
through  pre-existences  or  through  illegitimate  relations. 
Persons  sympathetic  to  S.  W.  were  usually  very  near  rela¬ 
tives.  These  family  romances  were  all  very  carefully  made 
up,  with  the  exception  of  those  mentioned,  so  that  to  con¬ 
tradict  them  was  impossible.  They  were  always  carried 
out  with  quite  bewildering  certainty,  and  surprised  one  by 
an  extremely  clever  valuation  of  certain  details  which  she 
had  noticed  or  taken  from  somewhere.  For  the  most  part 
the  romances  had  a  ghastly  character,  murder  by  poison  and 
dagger,  'seduction  and  divorce,  forgery  of  wills,  played  the 
chief  role. 

Mystic  Science . — In  reference  to  scientific  questions  S.  W. 
put  forward  numerous  suggestions.  Generally  towards  the 
end  of  the  seances  there  was  talk  and  debate  about  various 
objects  of  scientific  and  spiritistic  nature.  S.  W.  never  took 
part  in  the  discussion,  but  generally  sat  dreamily  in  a 
corner  in  a  semi-somnambulic  state.  She  listened  to  one 
and  another,  taking  hold  of  the  talk  in  a  half-dream,  but  she 
could  never  relate  anything  connectedly;  if  asked  about  it 
only  partial  explanations  were  given.  In  the  course  of  the 
winter  hints  emerged  in  various  seances :  “  The  spirits 
taught  her  about  the  world-forces,  and  the  strange  revela¬ 
tions  from  the  other  side,  yet  she  could  not  tell  anything 
now.”  Once  she  tried  to  give  a  description,  but  only  said : 
“  On  one  side  was  the  light,  on  the  other  the  power  of 
attraction.”  Finally,  in  March,  1900,  when  for  some  time 
nothing  had  been  heard  of  these  things  at  the  stances,  she 
announced  suddenly  with  a  joyful  face  that  she  had  now 
received  everything  from  the  spirits.  She  drew  out  a  long 
narrow  strip  of  paper  upon  which  wTere  numerous  names. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  41 


Although  I  asked  for  it  she  would  not  let  it  leave  her  hands, 
but  dictated  the  following  scheme  to  me. 

I  can  remember  clearly  that  in  the  course  of  the  winter 
of  1895  we  spoke  several  times  in  S.  W.’s  presence  of  the 
forces  of  attraction  and  repulsion  in  connection  with  Kant’s 
“  Natural  History  of  the  Heavens  ” ;  we  spoke  also  of  the 
“  Law  of  the  Conservation  of  Energy,”  of  the  different  forces 


of  energy,  and  of  the  question  whether  the  force  of  gravity 
was  perhaps  a  form  of  movement.  From  this  talk  S.  W.  had 
plainly  created  the  foundation  of  her  mystic  system.  She 
gave  the  following  explanation :  The  natural  forces  are 
arranged  in  seven  circles.  Outside  these  circles  are  three 
more,  in  which  unknown  forces  intermediate  between  energy 
and  matter  are  found.  Matter  is  found  in  seven  circles 
which  surround  ten  inner  ones.  In  the  centre  stands 


42 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


the  primary  force,  which  is  the  original  cause  of  crea¬ 
tion  and  is  a  spiritual  force.  The  first  circle  which 
surrounds  the  primary  force  is  matter  which  is  not  really 
a  force  and  does  not  arise  from  the  primary  force,  but 
it  unites  with  the  primary  force  and  from  this  union  the 
first  descendants  are  the  spiritual  forces ;  on  the  one  hand 
the  Good  or  Light  Powers,  on  the  other  the  Dark  Powers. 
The  Power  Magnesor  consists  most  of  primary  force;  the 
Power  Connesor,  in  which  the  dark  might  of  matter  is 
greatest,  contains  the  least.  The  further  outwards  the 
primary  force  streams  forth  the  weaker  it  becomes,  but 
weaker  too  becomes  the  power  of  matter,  since  its  power  is 
greatest  where  the  collision  with  the  primary  power  is  most 
violent,  i.e.  in  the  Power  Connesor.  Within  the  circles  there 
are  fresh  analogous  forces  of  equal  strength  but  making  in 
the  opposite  direction.  The  system  can  also  be  described  in 
a  single  series  beginning  with  primary  force,  Magnesor, 
Cafor,  etc.,  proceeding  from  left  to  right  on  the  scheme  and 
ascending  with  Tusa,  Endos,  ending  with  Connesor ;  only 
then  the  survey  of  the  grade  of  intensity  is  made  more 
difficult.  Every  force  in  the  outer  circle  is  combined  from 
the  nearest  adjacent  forces  of  the  inner  circle. 

1.  The  Magnesor  Group. — The  so-called  powers  of  Light 
descend  in  direct  line  from  Magnesor,  but  slightly  influenced 
by  the  dark  side.  The  powers  Magnesor  and  Cafor  form 
together  the  so-called  Life  Force,  which  is  no  single  power 
but  is  differently  combined  in  animals  and  plants.  Between 
Magnesor  and  Cafor  there  exists  the  Life  Force  of  Man. 
Morally  good  men  and  those  mediums  which  bring  about 
interviews  of  good  spirits  in  the  earth  have  most  Magnesor. 
Somewhere  about  the  middle  there  stand  the  life  forces  of 
animals,  and  in  Cafor  that  of  plants.  Nothing  is  known  about 
Hefa,  or  rather  S.  W.  can  give  no  information.  Persus  is 
the  fundamental  power  which  comes  to  light  in  the  pheno¬ 
menon  of  the  forces  of  locomotion.  Its  recognisable  forces 
are  Warmth,  Light,  Electricity,  Magnetism,  and  two  un¬ 
known  forces,  one  of  which  only  exists  in  comets.  Of  the 
powers  of  the  seventh  circle  S.  W.  could  only  point  out  north 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  48 


and  south  magnetism  and  positive  and  negative  electricity. 
Deka  is  unknown.  Smar  is  of  peculiar  significance,  to  be 
indicated  below ;  it  leads  to — 

2.  Hypnos  Group. — Hypnos  and  Hyfonismus  are  powers 
which  only  dwell  within  certain  beings,  in  those  who  are 
in  a  position  to  exert  a  magnetic  influence  upon  others. 
Athialowi  is  the  sexual  instinct.  Chemical  affinity  is  directly 
derived  from  it.  In  the  ninth  circle  under  it  arises  indolence 
(that  is  the  line  of  Smar).  Svens  and  Kara  are  of  unknown 
significance.  Pusa  corresponds  to  Smar  in  the  opposite 
sense. 

8.  The  Connesor  Group . — Connesor  is  the  opposite  pole  of 
Magnesor.  It  is  the  dark  and  wicked  power  equal  in  intensity 
to  the  good  power  of  light.  While  the  good  power  creates, 
this  one  turns  into  the  opposite.  Endos  is  an  elemental  power 
of  minerals.  From  these  (significance  unknown)  gravitation 
proceeds,  which  on  its  side  is  designated  as  the  elemental 
force  of  the  forces  of  resistance  that  occur  in  phenomena 
(gravity,  capillarity,  adhesion  and  cohesion).  Nakus  is  the 
secret  power  of  a  rare  stone  which  controls  the  effect  of  snake 
poison.  The  two  powers  Smar  and  Pusa  have  a  special 
importance.  According  to  S.  W.,  Smar  develops  in  the  bodies 
of  morally  good  men  at  the  moment  of  death.  This  power 
enables  the  soul  to  rise  to  the  powers  of  light.  Pusa  behaves 
in  the  opposite  way,  for  it  is  the  power  which  conducts 
morally  bad  people  to  the  dark  side  in  the  state  of  Connesor. 

In  the  sixth  circle  the  visible  world  begins,  which  only 
appears  to  be  so  sharply  divided  from  the  other  side  in 
consequence  of  the  fickleness  of  our  organs  of  sense.  In 
reality  the  transition  is  a  very  gradual  one,  and  there  are 
people  who  live  on  a  higher  stage  of  knowledge  because  their 
perceptions  and  sensations  are  more  delicate  than  those  of 
others.  Great  seers  are  enabled  to  see  manifestations  of  force 
where  ordinary  people  can  perceive  nothing.  S.  W.  sees 
Magnesor  as  a  white  or  bluish  vapour,  which  chiefly  develops 
when  good  spirits  are  near.  Connesor  is  a  dark  vapour-like 
fluid,  which,  like  Magnesor,  develops  on  the  appearance  of 
“black”  spirits.  For  instance,  the  night  before  the  beginning 


44 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


of  great  visions  the  shiny  vapour  of  Magnesor  spreads  in 
thick  layers,  out  of  which  the  good  spirits  grow  to  visible 
white  forces.  It  is  just  the  same  with  Connessor.  But  these 
powers  have  their  dffierent  mediums.  S.  W.  is  a  Magnesor 
medium,  as  were  the  Prophetess  of  Prevorst  and  Sweden¬ 
borg.  The  materialisation  mediums  of  the  spiritualists  are 
mostly  Connesor  mediums,  because  materialisation  takes 
place  much  more  easily  through  Connesor  on  account  of  its 
close  connection  with  the  properties  of  matter.  In  the 
summer  of  1900  S.  W.  tried  several  times  to  produce  the 
circles  of  matter,  but  she  never  arrived  at  other  than  vague 
and  incomprehensible  hints  and  afterwards  spoke  no  more 
about  this. 

Conclusion . — The  really  interesting  and  valuable  seances 
came  to  an  end  with  the  production  of  the  system  of  powers. 
Even  before  there  was  noticeable  a  gradual  decline  in  the 
vividness  of  the  ecstasies.  Ulrich  von  Gerbenstein  came 
increasingly  to  the  front,  and  filled  up  the  seances  with  his 
childish  chatter.  The  visions  which  S.  W.  had  in  the  mean¬ 
time  likewise  seem  to  have  lost  vividness  and  plasticity 
of  formation,  for  S.  W.  was  afterwards  only  able  to  feel 
pleasant  sensations  in  the  presence  of  good  spirits,  and  dis¬ 
agreeableness  in  that  of  bad  spirits.  Nothing  new  was 
produced.  There  was  something  of  uncertainty  in  the  trance 
talks,  as  if  feeling  and  seeking  for  the  impression  which  she 
was  making  upon  the  audience,  together  with  an  increasing 
staleness  in  the  content.  In  the  outward  behaviour  of  S.  W. 
there  arose  also  a  marked  shyness  and  uncertainty,  so  that 
the  impression  of  wilful  deception  became  ever  stronger. 
The  writer  therefore  soon  withdrew  from  the  seances.  S.  W. 
experimented  afterwards  in  other  circles,  and  six  months 
after  my  leaving  was  caught  cheating  in  flagranti  delicto. 
She  wanted  to  arouse  again  by  spiritualistic  experiments  the 
lost  belief  in  her  supernatural  powers ;  she  concealed  small 
objects  in  her  dress,  throwing  them  up  in  the  air  during  the 
dark  seance.  With  this  her  part  was  played  out.  Since  this 
eighteen  months  have  passed  during  which  I  have  not  seen 
S.  W.  I  have  learnt  from  an  observer  who  knew  her  from 


PSYCHOLOGY  OP  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  45 

the  earlier  times,  she  has  now  and  again  strange  states  of 
short  duration  during  which  she  is  very  pale  and  silent,  and 
has  a  fixed  glittering  look.  I  did  not  hear  any  more  of  visions. 
She  is  said  not  to  take  part  any  more  in  spiritualistic  seances. 
S.  W.  is  now  in  a  large  business,  and  according  to  all  accounts 
is  an  industrious  and  responsible  person  who  does  her  work 
eagerly  and  cleverly,  giving  entire  satisfaction.  According  to 
the  account  of  trustworthy  persons,  her  character  has  much 
improved ;  she  has  become  quieter,  more  regular  and  sympa¬ 
thetic.  No  other  abnormalities  have  appeared  in  her.  This 
case  contains  a  mass  of  psychological  problems,  in  spite  of 
its  incompleteness,  whose  exposition  goes  far  beyond  the 
limits  of  this  little  work.  We  must  therefore  be  satisfied 
with  a  mere  sketch  of  the  various  striking  manifestations. 
For  a  more  lucid  exposition  it  seems  better  to  review  the 
various  states  separately. 

1.  The  Waking  State— Here  the  patient  shows  various 
peculiarities.  As  we  have  seen,  at  school  she  was  often  dis¬ 
tracted,  lost  herself  in  a  peculiar  way,  was  moody;  her 
behaviour  changes  indefinitely,  now  quiet,  shy,  reserved,  now 
lively,  noisy  and  talkative.  She  cannot  be  called  unintelli¬ 
gent,  but  she  strikes  one  sometimes  as  narrow-minded,  some¬ 
times  as  having  isolated  intelligent  moments.  Her  memory 
is  good  on  the  whole,  but  owing  to  her  distraction  it  is  much 
impaired.  Thus,  despite  much  discussion  and  reading  of 
Kerner’s  “  Seherin  von  Prevorst,”  for  many  weeks,  she  does  not 
know  whether  the  author’s  name  is  Koerner  or  Kerner ,  nor 
the  name  of  the  Prophetess,  if  directly  asked.  All  the  same, 
when  it  occasionally  comes  up,  the  name  Kerner  is  correctly 
written  in  the  automatic  communications.  In  general  it 
may  be  said  that  her  character  has  something  extremely 
impulsive,  incomprehensible,  protean.  Deducting  the  want 
of  balance  due  to  puberty,  there  remains  a  pathological 
residue  which  expresses  itself  in  reactions  which  follow" 
no  rule  and  a  bizarre  unaccountable  character.  This 
character  may  be  called  desequilibrey  or  unstable.  It  re¬ 
ceives  a  specific  mould  from  features  which  can  certainly 
be  regarded  as  hysterical.  This  is  decidedly  so  in  the 


46 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


conditions  of  distraction.  As  Janet 1  maintains,  the  foundation 
of  hysterical  anaesthesia  is  the  loss  of  attention.  He  was  able 
to  prove  in  youthful  hysterics  “  a  striking  indifference  and 
distracted  attention  in  the  whole  region  of  the  emotional 
life.”  Misreading  is  a  notable  instance,  which  illustrates 
hysterical  dispersion  of  attention  most  beautifully.  The 
psychology  of  this  process  may  perhaps  be  viewed  as  follows  : 
during  reading  aloud,  attention  becomes  paralysed  for  this  act 
and  is  directed  towards  some  other  object.  Meanwhile  the 
reading  is  continued  mechanically,  the  sense  impressions  are 
received  as  before,  but  in  consequence  of  the  dispersion  the 
excitability  of  the  perceptive  centre  is  lowered,  so  that  the 
strength  of  the  sense  impression  is  no  longer  adequate  to 
fix  the  attention  in  such  a  way  that  perception  as  such 
is  conducted  along  the  motor  speech  route;  thus  all  the 
inflowing  associations  which  at  once  unite  with  any  new 
sense  impression  are  repressed.  The  further  psychological 
mechanism  permits  of  only  two  possible  explanations : 

(1)  The  admission  of  the  sense  impression  is  received  uncon¬ 
sciously  (because  of  the  increase  of  threshold  stimulus),  in  the 
perceptive  centre  just  below  the  threshold  of  consciousness, 
and  consequently  is  not  incorporated  in  the  attention  and 
conducted  back  to  the  speech  route.  It  only  reaches  verbal 
expression  through  the  intervention  of  the  nearest  associa¬ 
tions,  in  this  case  the  dialect  expression2  for  this  object. 

(2)  The  sense  impression  is  perceived  consciously,  but  at  the 
moment  of  its  entrance  into  the  speech  route  it  reaches  a 
territory  whose  excitability  is  diminished  by  the  dispersion 
of  attention.  At  this  place  the  dialect  word  is  substituted 
by  association  for  the  motor  speech  image,  and  it  is  uttered 
as  such.  In  either  case  it  is  certain  that  it  is  the  acoustic 
dispersed  attention  which  fails  to  correct  the  error.  Which 
of  the  two  explanations  is  correct  cannot  be  cleared  up 
in  this  case;  probably  both  approach  the  truth,  for  the 
dispersion  ot  attention  seems  to  be  general,  and  in  each 
case  concerns  more  than  one  of  the  centres  engaged  in  the 
act  of  reading  aloud.  In  our  case  this  phenomenon  has  a 

1  “  On  Hysterics.”  2  See  page  17, 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  47 


special  value,  for  we  have  here  a  quite  elementary  automatic 
phenomenon.  It  may  be  called  hysterical  in  so  far  as  in  this 
concrete  case  a  state  of  exhaustion  and  intoxication  with  its 
parallel  manifestations  can  be  excluded.  A  healthy  person 
only  exceptionally  allows  himself  to  be  so  engaged  by  an 
object  that  he  fails  to  correct  the  errors  of  a  dispersed  atten¬ 
tion— those  of  the  kind  described.  The  frequency  of  these 
occurrences  in  the  patient,  point  to  a  considerable  limitation 
of  the  field  of  consciousness  in  so  far  as  she  can  only 
master  a  relative  minimum  of  elementary  sensations  flowing 
in  at  the  same  time.  If  we  wish  to  describe  more  exactly 
the  psychological  state  of  the  “psychic  shady  side,”  we 
might  call  it  either  a  sleeping  or  a  dream-state,  according 
as  passivity  or  activity  predominated.  There  is,  at  all 
events,  a  pathological  dream  state  of  very  rudimentary  exten¬ 
sion  and  intensity ;  its  genesis  is  spontaneous  ;  dream-states 
arising  spontaneously  with  the  production  of  automatisms 
are  generally  regarded  on  the  whole  as  hysterical.  It 
must  be  pointed  out  that  these  instances  of  misreading 
occurred  frequently  in  the  patient,  and  that  the  term 
hysterical  is  employed  in  this  sense ;  so  far  as  we  know,  it 
is  only  on  a  foundation  of  hysterical  constitution  that  spon¬ 
taneous  states  of  partial  sleep  or  dreams  occur  frequently. 

Binet 1  has  studied  experimentally  the  automatic  sub¬ 
stitution  of  some  adjacent  association  in  his  hysterics.  If 
he  pricked  the  anaesthetic  hand  of  the  patient  without 
his  noticing  the  prick,  he  thought  of  “  points  ” ;  if  the 
anaesthetic  finger  was  moved,  he  thought  of  “sticks”  or 
“columns.”  When  the  anaesthetic  hand,  concealed  from 
the  patient’s  sight  by  a  screen,  writes  “  Salpetriere,”  the 
patient  sees  in  front  of  her  the  word  “  Salpetriere  ”  in  white 
writing  on  a  black  ground.  This  recalls  the  experiments 
above  referred  to  of  Guinon  and  Sophie  Waltke. 

We  thus  find  in  the  patient,  at  a  time  when  there  was 
nothing  to  indicate  the  later  phenomena,  rudimentary  auto¬ 
matisms,  fragments  of  dream  manifestations,  which  bear  in 
themselves  the  possibility  that  some  day  more  than  one 

1  Binet,  “  Les  alterations  de  la  personnalite.” 


48 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


association  would  creep  in  between  the  perception  of  the  dis¬ 
persed  attention  and  consciousness.  The  misreading  shows 
us  moreover  a  certain  automatic  independence  of  the 
psychical  elements.  This  occasionally  expands  to  a  more  or 
less  fleeting  dispersion  of  attention,  although  with  very  slight 
results  and  never  in  any  way  striking  or  suspicious;  this 
dispersedness  approximates  to  that  of  the  physiological 
dream.  The  misreading  can  be  thus  conceived  as  a  pro¬ 
dromal  symptom  of  the  later  events ;  especially  as  its 
psychology  is  prototypical  for  the  mechanism  of  somnam¬ 
bulic  dreams,  which  are  indeed  nothing  but  a  many-sided 
multiplication  and  manifold  variation  of  the  elementary  pro¬ 
cesses  reviewed  above.  I  never  succeeded  in  demonstrating 
during  my  observations  similar  rudimentary  automatisms. 
It  would  seem  that  in  course  of  time,  the  states  of  dispersed 
attention,  to  a  certain  extent  beneath  the  surface  of  con¬ 
sciousness,  at  first  of  low  degree,  have  grown  into  these 
remarkable  somnambulic  attacks  ;  hence  they  disappeared 
during  the  waking  state,  which  was  free  from  attacks.  So 
tar  as  concerns  the  development  of  the  patient’s  character 
beyond  a  certain  not  very  extensive  ripening,  no  remarkable 
change  could  be  demonstrated  during  the  observations  lasting 
nearly  two  years.  More  remarkable  is  the  fact  that  in  the 
two  years  since  the  cessation  (complete  ?)  of  the  somnambulic 
attacks,  a  considerable  change  in  character  has  taken  place. 
We  shall  have  occasion  later  on  to  speak  of  the  importance 
of  this  observation. 

Semi-Somnambulism . — In  S.  W.’s  case  the  following  con¬ 
dition  was  indicated  by  the  term  semi-somnambulism.  For 
some  time  after  and  before  the  actual  somnambulic  attack 
the  patient  finds  herself  in  a  state  whose  most  salient  feature 
can  best  be  described  as  “preoccupation.”  She  only  lends 
half  an  ear  to  the  conversation  around  her,  answers  at 
random,  often  gets  absorbed  in  all  manner  of  hallucinations  ; 
her  face  is  solemn,  her  look  ecstatic,  visionaiy,  ardent. 
Closer  observation  discloses  a  far-reaching  alteration  of  the 
entire  character.  She  is  now  serious,  dignified;  when  she 
speaks  her  subject  is  always  an  extremely  serious  one.  In 


PSYCHOLOGY  OP  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  49 


this  condition  she  can  talk  so  seriously,  forcibly  and  con¬ 
vincingly,  that  one  is  tempted  to  ask  oneself  if  this  is  really 
a  girl  of  fifteen  and  a  half.  One  has  the  impression  of  a 
mature  woman  possessed  of  considerable  dramatic  talent. 
The  reason  for  this  seriousness,  this  solemnity  of  behaviour, 
is  given  in  her  explanation  that  at  these  times  she  stands  at 
the  frontier  of  this  world  and  the  other,  and  associates  just 
as  truly  with  the  spirits  of  the  dead  as  with  living  people. 
And,  indeed,  her  conversation  is  usually  divided  between 
answers  to  real  objective  questions  and  hallucinatory  ones. 
I  call  this  state  semi-somnambulism  because  it  coincides 
with  Richet  s  own  definition.  He1  says  i  “La  conscience 
de  cet  individu  persiste  dans  son  integrite  apparente,  toutefois 
des  operations  tres  compliquees  vont  s’accomplir  en  dehors 
de  la  conscience  sans  que  le  moi  volontaire  et  conscient 
paraisse  ressentir  une  modification  quelconque.  Une  autre 
personne  sera  en  lui  qui  agira,  pensera,  voudra,  sans  que 
la  conscience,  c  est  a  dire  le  moi  reflechi  conscient,  ait  la 
moindre  notion.” 

Binet2  says  of  this  term:  “Le  terme  indique  la  parente 
de  cet  etat  avec  le  somnambulisme  veritable,  et  en  suite  il 
laisse  comprendre  que  la  vie  somnamblique  qui  se  manifeste 
duiant  la  veille  est  reduite,  deprimee,  par  la  conscience 
normale  qui  la  recouvre.” 


Automatisms. 

Semi-somnambulism  is  characterised  by  the  continuity 
of  consciousness  with  that  of  the  waking  state  and  by  the 
appearance  of  various  automatisms  which  give  evidence  of 
an  activity  of  the  subconscious  self,  independent  of  that 
of  consciousness. 

Oui  case  shows  the  following  automatic  phenomena : 

(1)  Automatic  movements  of  the  table. 

(2)  Automatic  writing. 

(3)  Hallucinations. 

1  Richet,  Rev.  Phil.,  1884,  II.  p.  650. 

2  Binet,  “  Les  alterations  de  la  personnalite,”  p.  139. 


4 


50 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


1.  Automatic  Movements  of  the  Table. — Before  the  patient 
came  under  my  observation  she  had  been  influenced  by  the 
suggestion  of  “  table-turning  ”  which  she  had  first  come 
across  as  a  game.  As  soon  as  she  entered  the  circle  there 
appeared  communications  from  members  of  her  family  which 
showed  her  to  be  a  medium.  I  could  only  find  out 
that  as  soon  as  ever  her  hand  was  placed  on  the  table, 
the  typical  movements  began.  The  resulting  communica¬ 
tions  have  no  interest  for  us.  But  the  automatic  charactei 
of  the  act  itself  deserves  some  discussion,  for  we  may,  with¬ 
out  more  ado,  set  aside  the  imputation  that  there  was  any 
question  of  intentional  and  voluntary  pushing  or  pulling  on 
the  part  of  the  patient. 

As  we  know  from  the  investigations  of  Chevreul,1  Gley, 
Lehmann  and  others,  unconscious  motor  phenomena  are 
not  only  of  frequent  occurrence  among  hysterical  persons, 
and  those  pathologically  inclined  in  other  directions,  but 
they  are  also  relatively  easily  produced  in  normal  persons 
who  show  no  other  spontaneous  automatisms.  I  have  made 
many  experiments  on  these  lines,  and  can  confirm  this 
observation.  In  the  great  majority  of  instances  all  that  is 
required  is  enough  patience  to  put  up  with  an  hour  of  quiet 
waiting.  In  most  subjects  motor  automatisms  will  be  ob¬ 
tained  in  a  more  or  less  high  degree  if  contra-suggestions 
do  not  intervene  as  obstacles.  In  a  relatively  small  pei- 
centage  the  phenomena  arise  spontaneously,  i.e.  directly 
under  the  influence  of  verbal  suggestion  or  of  some  earlier 
auto-suggestion.  In  this  instance  the  case  is  poweifully 
affected  by  suggestion.  In  general  the  particular  predis¬ 
position  is  subject  to  all  those  laws  which  also  hold  good 
for  normal  hypnosis.  Nevertheless  certain  special  circum¬ 
stances  are  to  be  taken  into  account,  conditioned  by  the 
peculiarity  of  the  case.  It  is  not  a  question  of  a  total 
hypnosis,  but  of  a  partial  one,  limited  entirely  to  the 
motor  area  of  the  arm,  like  the  cerebral  anesthesia  pro¬ 
duced  by  “ magnetic  passes”  for  a  painful  spot  in  the 


1  Complete  references  in  Binet,  “  Les  alterations,  p.  19 1,  footnote. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  51 


body.  Wo  touch  the  spot  in  question  employing  verbal 
suggestion  or  making  use  of  some  existing  auto-suggestion, 
and  of  the  tactile  stimulus  which  we  know  acts  sugges¬ 
tively,  to  bring  about  the  desired  partial  hypnosis.  In 
accordance  with  this  procedure  refractory  subjects  can 
rather  easily  be  brought  to  an  exhibition  of  automatism. 
The  experimenter  intentionally  gives  the  table  a  slight  push, 
or,  better,  a  series  of  rhythmic  but  very  slight  taps.  After 
a  short  time  he  notices  that  the  oscillations  become  stronger, 
that  they  continue  although  he  has  interrupted  his  own 
intentional  movements.  The  experiment  has  succeeded,  the 
subject  has  unsuspectingly  taken  up  the  suggestion.  By 
this  procedure  much  more  is  obtained  than  by  verbal  sug¬ 
gestion.  In  very  receptive  persons  and  in  all  those  cases 
where  movement  seems  to  arise  spontaneously,  the  pur¬ 
poseful  tremulous  movements,1  not  perceptible  by  the  subject, 
assume  the  role  of  agent  provocateur. 

In  this  way  persons  who  by  themselves  have  never  ob¬ 
tained  automatic  movements  of  a  coarse  calibre,  sometimes 
assume  the  unconscious  guidance  of  the  table-movements, 
provided  that  the  tremors  are  strong  and  that  the  medium 
understands  their  meaning.  In  this  case  the  medium  takes 
control  of  the  slight  oscillations  and  returns  them  consider¬ 
ably  strengthened;  but  rarely  at  exactly  the  same  instant, 
generally  a  few  seconds  later,  in  this  way  revealing  the  agent’s 
conscious  or  unconscious  thought.  By  means  of  this  simple 
mechanism  there  may  arise  those  cases  of  thought-reading 
so  bewildering  at  first  sight.  A  very  simple  experiment, 
that  succeeds  in  many  cases  even  with  unpractised  persons, 
will  serve  to  illustrate  this.  The  experimenter  thinks,  say, 
of  the  number  four ,  and  then  waits,  his  hands  quietly  resting 
on  the  table,  until  he  feels  that  the  table  makes  the  first 


As  is  known,  during  the  waking  state  the  hands  and  arms  are  never  quite 
still,  but  are  constantly  subjected  to  fine  tremors.  Preyer,  Lehmann,  and 
others  have  proved  that  these  movements  are  influenced  in  a  high  degree  by 
the  predominant  presentations.  Preyer  shows  that  the  outstretched  hand 
drew  small,  more  or  less  faithful,  copies  of  figures  which  were  vividly  pre¬ 
sented.  These  purposeful  tremors  can  be  demonstrated  in  a  very  simple  way 
by  experiments  with  the  pendulum. 


52  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

inclination  to  announce  the  number  thought  of.  He  lifts  his 
hands  off  the  table  immediately,  and  the  number  four  will 
be  correctly  tilted  out.  It  is  advisable  in  this  experiment 
to  place  the  table  upon  a  soft  thick  carpet.  By  close 
attention  the  experimenter  will  occasionally  notice  a  move¬ 
ment  of  the  table  which  is  thus  represented. 


(1)  Purposeful  tremors  too  slight  to  be  perceived  by 
the  subject. 

(2)  Several  very  small  but  perceptible  oscillations  of 
the  table  which  indicate  that  the  subject  is  re¬ 
sponding  to  them. 

(B)  The  big  movements  (tilts)  of  the  table,  giving  the 
number  four  that  was  thought  of. 

(ab)  Denotes  the  moment  when  the  operator’s  hands 
are  removed. 

This  experiment  succeeds  excellently  with  well-disposed 
but  inexperienced  subjects.  After  a  little  practice  the 
phenomenon  indicated  is  wont  to  disappear,  since  by  practice 
the  number  is  read  and  reproduced  directly  from  the  purpose¬ 
ful  movements.1 

In  a  responsive  medium  the  purposeful  tremors  of  the 
agent  act  here  just  as  the  intentional  taps  in  the  experiment 

i  Cf.  Preyer,  “  Die  Erklarung  des  Gedankenlesens,”  Leipzig,  1886. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  53 

cited  above ;  they  are  received,  strengthened  and  reproduced, 
although  slightly  wavering.  Still  they  are  perceptible  and 
hence  act  suggestively  as  slight  tactile  stimuli,  and  by  the 
increase  of  partial  hypnosis  give  rise  to  great  automatic 
movements.  This  experiment  illustrates  in  the  clearest  way 
the  increase  step  by  step  of  auto-suggestion.  Along  the  path 
of  this  auto-suggestion  are  developed  all  the  automatic 
phenomena  of  a  motor  nature.  How  the  intellectual  content 
gradually  mingles  in  with  the  purely  motor  need  scarcely  be 
elucidated  after  this  discussion.  There  is  no  need  of  a  special 
suggestion  for  the  evoking  of  intellectual  phenomena.  From 
the  outset  it  is  a  question  of  word-presentation,  at  least  from 
the  side  of  the  experimenter.  After  the  first  aimless  motor 
irrelevancies  of  the  unpractised  subject,  some  word  products 
or  the  intentions  of  the  experimenter  are  soon  reproduced. 
Objectively  the  occurrence  of  an  intellectual  content  must  be 
understood  as  follows  : — 

By  the  gradual  increase  of  auto-suggestion  the  motor- 
range  of  the  arm  becomes  isolated  from  consciousness,  that 
is  to  say,  the  perception  of  the  slight  movement-impulse  is 
concealed  from  consciousness.1 

By  the  knowledge  gained  from  consciousness  that  some 
intellectual  content  is  possible,  there  results  a  collateral 
excitation  in  the  speech-area  as  the  means  immediately  at 
hand  for  intellectual  notification.  The  motor  part  of  word- 
presentation  is  necessarily  chiefly  concerned  with  this  aiming 
at  notification.2 3  In  this  way  we  understand  the  unconscious 
flowing  over  of  speech-impulse  to  the  motor-area  ^  and  con¬ 
versely  the  gradual  penetration  of  partial  hypnosis  into  the 
speech  area. 

In  numerous  experiments  with  beginners,  as  a  rule  I  have 

1  Analogous  to  certain  hypnotic  experiments  in  the  waking  state.  Cf. 
Janet’s  experiment  when  by  a  whispered  suggestion  he  induced  a  patient  to 
lie  flat  on  the  ground  without  being  aware  of  it  (“  L’Automatisme  ”). 

2  Charcot’s  scheme  of  word-picture  combination:  1,  Auditory  image.  2, 
Visual  image.  3,  Motor  image,  a,  Speech  image,  fi,  Writing  image.  In 
Gilbert  Ballet,  “  Die  innerliche  Sprache,”  Leipzig  and  Wien,  1890. 

3  Bain  says,  “Thought  is  a  suppressed  word  or  a  suppressed  act”  (“The 
Senses  and  the  Intellect  ”). 


54 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


observed  at  the  beginning  of  intellectual  phenomena  a  rela¬ 
tively  large  number  of  completely  meaningless  words,  also 
often  a  series  of  meaningless  single  letters.  Later  on  all 
kinds  of  absurdities  are  produced,  e.g.  words  or  entire 
sentences  with  the  letters  irregularly  misplaced  or  with  the 
order  of  the  letters  all  reversed — a  kind  of  mirror-writing. 
The  appearance  of  the  letter  or  word  indicates  a  new 
suggestion;  some  sort  of  association  is  involuntarily  joined 
to  it,  which  is  then  realised.  Eemarkably  enough,  these  are 
not  generally  the  conscious  associations,  but  quite  unexpected 
ones,  a  circumstance  showing  that  a  considerable  part  of 
the  speech-area  is  already  hypnotically  isolated.  The  re¬ 
cognition  of  this  automatism  again  forms  a  fruitful  suggestion, 
since  invariably  at  this  moment  the  feeling  of  strangeness 
arises,  if  it  is  not  already  present  in  the  pure  motor-auto¬ 
matism.  The  question,  “Who  is  doing  this?”  “Who  is  speak¬ 
ing?”  is  the  suggestion  for  the  synthesis  of  the  unconscious 
personality  which  as  a  rule  does  not  like  being  kept  wait¬ 
ing  too  long.  Any  name  is  introduced,  generally  one  charged 
with  emotion,  and  the  automatic  splitting  of  the  person¬ 
ality  is  accomplished.  How  accidental  and  how  vacillating 
this  synthesis  is  at  its  beginning,  the  following  reports  from 
the  literature  show.  Myers 1  communicates  the  following 
interesting  observation  on  a  Mr.  A.,  a  member  of  the 
Society  for  Psychical  Research  who  was  making  experiments 
on  himself  in  automatic  writing. 


Third  Day. 

Question  :  What  is  man  ? 

Answer :  TEFI  H  HASL  ESBLE  LIES. 
Question :  Is  that  an  anagram  ?  Yes. 

How  many  words  does  it  contain  ?  Five. 

What  is  the  first  word  ?  SEE. 

1  Proceedings  of  S.P.R.,  1885.  “  Automatic  writing.” 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  55 


What  is  the  second  word  ?  SEEEE. 

See  ?  Shall  I  interpret  it  myself  ?  Try  to. 

Mr.  A.  found  this  solution  :  “  Life  is  less  able.”  He  was 
astonished  at  this  intellectual  information,  which  seemed  to 
him  to  prove  the  existence  of  an  intelligence  independent  of 
his  own.  Therefore  he  went  on  to  ask  : 

Who  are  you  ?  Clelia. 

Are  you  a  woman  ?  Yes. 

Have  you  ever  lived  upon  the  earth  ?  No. 

Will  you  come  to  life  ?  Yes. 

When  ?  In  six  years. 

Why  are  you  conversing  with  me  ?  E  if  Clelia  el. 

Mr.  A.  interpreted  this  answer  as :  I  Clelia  feel. 


Fourth  Day. 

Question  :  Am  I  the  one  who  asks  the  questions  ?  Yes. 

Is  Clelia  there  ?  No. 

Who  is  here  then  ?  Nobody. 

Does  Clelia  exist  at  all  ?  No. 

With  whom  then  was  I  speaking  yesterday?  With 
no  one. 

Janet1  conducted  the  following  conversation  with  the 
sub-consciousness  of  Lucie,  who,  meanwhile,  was  engaged 
in  conversation  with  another  observer.  “  M’entendez-vous  ?  ” 
asks  Janet.  Lucie  answers  by  automatic  writing,  “  Non.” 
“  Mais  pour  repondre  il  faut  entendre  ?  ”  “  Oui,  absolument.” 
“Alors  comment  faites-vous  ?  ”  “Je  ne  sais.”  “II  faut 
bien  qu’il  y  ait  quelqu’un  qui  m’entend  ?  ”  “Oui.”  “  Qui 
cela !  Autre  que  Lucie.  Ah  bien !  Une  autre  personne. 
Voulez-vous  que  nous  lui  donnions  un  nom  ?  ”  “  Non.”  “  Si, 
ce  sera  plus  commode.”  “Eh  bien,  Adrienne!”  “Alors, 
Adrienne,  m’entendez-vous  ?  ”  “  Oui.” 

From  these  quotations  it  will  be  seen  in  what  way  the 
subconscious  personality  is  constructed.  It  owes  its  origin 

1  Pie:re  Janet,  “  L’Automatisme  Psychologique,”  p.  317,  Paris,  1889. 


56 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


purely  to  suggestive  questions  meeting  a  certain  disposition 
of  the  medium.  This  explanation  is  the  result  of  the 
disintegration  of  the  psychical  complex ;  the  feeling  of  the 
strangeness  of  such  automatisms  then  comes  in  to  help,  as 
soon  as  conscious  attention  is  directed  to  the  automatic  act. 
Binet 1  remarks  on  this  experiment  of  Janet’s  :  “  II  faut  bien 
remarquer  que  si  la  personnalite  d’ Adrienne  a  pu  se  creer,  c’est 
qu’elle  a  rencontre  une  possibility  psychologique  ;  en  d’autres 
termes,  il  y  avait  la  des  phenomenes  desagreges  vivant  separes 
de  la  conscience  normale  du  sujet.”  The  individualisation 
of  the  sub-consciousness  always  denotes  a  considerable  further 
step  of  great  suggestive  influence  upon  the  further  formation 
of  automatisms.2  So,  too,  we  must  regard  the  origin  of  the 
unconscious  personalities  in  our  case. 

The  objection  that  there  is  simulation  in  automatic  table¬ 
turning  may  well  be  given  up,  when  one  considers  the 
phenomenon  of  thought-reading  from  the  purposeful  tremors 
which  the  patient  offered  in  such  plenitude.  Bapid,  con¬ 
scious  thought-reading  demands  at  the  least  an  extraordinary 
degree  of  practice,  which  it  has  been  shown  the  patient  did 
not  possess.  By  means  of  the  purposeful  tremors  whole 
conversations  can  be  carried  on,  as  in  our  case.  In  the 
same  way  the  suggestibility  of  the  subconscious  can  be 
proved  objectively  if,  for  instance,  the  experimenter  with  his 
hand  on  the  table  desires  that  the  hand  of  the  medium  should 
no  longer  be  able  to  move  the  table  or  the  glass ;  contrary  to 
all  expectation  and  to  the  liveliest  astonishment  of  the 
subject,  the  table  will  immediately  remain  immovable. 
Naturally  any  other  desired  suggestions  can  be  realised, 
provided  they  do  not  overstep  by  their  innervations  the 
region  of  partial  hypnosis ;  this  proves  at  the  same  time 
the  limited  nature  of  the  hypnosis.  Suggestions  for  the 
legs  and  the  other  arm  will  thus  not  be  obeyed.  Table¬ 
turning  is  not  an  automatism  which  belongs  exclusively 

1  “  Les  Alterations,”  p.  132. 

2  “  Une  fois  baptise,  le  personnage  inconscient  est  plus  determine  et  plus 
net,  il  montre  mieux  ses  caracteres  psychologiques  ”  (Janet,  “  L’Automa- 
tisme,”  p.  318). 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  57 


to  the  patient’s  semi-somnambulism :  on  the  contrary,  it 
occurred  in  the  most  pronounced  form  in  the  waking  state, 
and  in  most  cases  then  passed  over  into  semi-somnam¬ 
bulism,  the  appearance  of  this  being  generally  announced 
by  hallucinations,  as  it  was  at  the  first  sitting. 

2.  Automatic  Writing. — A  second  automatic  phenomenon  ; 
which  at  the  outset  corresponds  to  a  higher  partial  hypnosis, 
is  automatic  writing.  It  is,  according  to  my  experience, 
much  rarer  and  more  difficult  to  produce  than  table-turning. 
As  in  table-turning,  it  is  again  a  matter  of  a  primary  sug¬ 
gestion,  to  the  conscious  when  sensibility  is  retained,  to  the 
unconscious  when  it  is  obliterated.  The  suggestion  is,  how¬ 
ever,  not  a  simple  one,  for  it  already  bears  in  itself  an 
intellectual  element.  “  To  write  ”  means  “  to  write  some¬ 
thing.”  This  special  element  of  the  suggestion  which 
extends  beyond  the  merely  motor  often  conditions  a  certain 
perplexity  on  the  part  of  the  subject,  giving  rise  to  slight 
contrary  suggestions  which  hinder  the  appearance  of  the 
automatisms.  I  have  observed  in  a  few  cases  that  the  sug¬ 
gestion  is  realised,  despite  its  relative  venturesomeness  (it 
was  directed  towards  the  waking  consciousness  of  a  so-called 
normal  person).  However,  it  takes  place  in  a  peculiar  way ; 
it  first  displaces  the  purely  motor  part  of  the  central  system 
concerned  in  hypnosis,  and  the  deeper  hypnosis  is  then 
reached  by  auto-suggestion  from  the  motor  phenomenon, 
analogous  to  the  procedure  in  table-turning  described  above. 
The  subject,1  who  has  a  pencil  in  his  hand,  is  purposely 
engaged  in  conversation  whilst  his  attention  is  diverted  from 
the  writing.  The  hand  begins  to  make  movements,  begin¬ 
ning  with  many  upward  strokes  and  zigzag  lines,  or  a 
simple  line  is  made.  Occasionally  it  happens  that  the  pencil 
does  not  touch  the  paper,  but  writes  in  the  air.  These  move¬ 
ments  must  be  conceived  as  purely  motor  phenomena,  which 
correspond  to  the  expression  of  the  motor  element  in  the 
presentation  “  write.”  This  phenomenon  is  somewhat  rare; 
generally  single  letters  are  first  written,  and  what  was  said 

1  Of.  the  corresponding  experiments  of  Binet  and  F6r6.  See  Binet,  “  Les 
Alterations.” 


58 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


above  of  table-turning  holds  true  of  their  combination  into 
words  and  sentences.  True  mirror-writing  is  also  observed 
here  and  there.  In  the  majority  of  cases,  and  perhaps 
in  all  experiments  with  beginners  who  are  not  under 
some  very  special  suggestion,  the  automatic  writing  is  that 
of  the  subject.  Occasionally  its  character  may  be  greatly 
changed,1  but  this  is  secondary,  and  is  always  to  be  regarded 
as  a  symptom  of  the  intruding  synthesis  of  a  subconscious 
personality. 

As  stated,  the  patient’s  automatic  writing  never  came  to 
any  very  great  development.  In  these  experiments,  generally 


carried  out  in  darkness,  she  passed  over  into  semi-somnam¬ 
bulism,  or  into  ecstasy.  The  automatic  writing  had  thus  the 
same  effect  as  the  preliminary  table-turning. 

3.  The  Hallucinations. — The  nature  of  the  passing  into 
somnambulism  in  the  second  seance  is  of  psychological 
importance.  As  stated,  the  automatic  phenomena  were  pro¬ 
gressing  favourably  when  darkness  came  on.  The  most 
interesting  event  of  this  seance,  so  far,  was  the  brusque 
interruption  of  the  communication  from  the  grandfather, 
which  was  the  starting-point  of  various  debates  amongst  the 
members  of  the  circle.  These  two  momentous  occurrences, 
the  darkness  and  the  striking  event,  seem  to  have  been  the 
foundation  for  a  rapid  deepening  of  hypnosis,  in  consequence 
of  which  the  hallucinations  could  be  developed.  The  psycho¬ 
logical  mechanism  of  this  process  seems  to  be  as  follows: 

1  Cf.  corresponding  tests  by  Flournoy :  “  Des  Indes  a  la  planete  Mars. 
Etude  sur  un  cas  de  somnambulisme  avec  glossolalie.”  Paris  and  Geneva, 
1900. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  59 


The  influence  of  darkness  upon  the  suggestibility  of  the 
sense-organs  is  well  known.1  Binet 2  states  that  it  has  a 
special  influence  on  hysterics  producing  a  state  of  sleepiness. 
As  is  clear  from  the  foregoing,  the  patient  was  in  a  state 
of  partial  hypnosis  and  had  constituted  herself  one  with 
the  unconscious  personality  in  closest  relationship  to  her  in 
the  domain  of  speech.  The  automatic  expression  of  this 
personality  is  interrupted  most  unexpectedly  by  a  new  person, 
of  whose  existence  no  one  had  any  suspicion.  Whence 
came  this  cleavage  ?  Obviously  the  eager  expectation  of 
this  first  seance  had  very  much  occupied  the  patient.  Her 
reminiscences  of  me  and  my  family  had  probably  grouped 
themselves  around  this  expectation ;  hence  these  suddenly 
come  to  light  at  the  climax  of  the  automatic  expression. 
That  it  was  just  my  grandfather  and  no  one  else — not,  e.g., 
my  deceased  father,  who,  as  she  knew,  was  much  closer  to 
me  than  the  grandfather  whom  I  had  never  known — perhaps 
suggests  where  the  origin  of  this  new  person  is  to  be  sought. 
It  is  probably  a  dissociation  of  the  personality  already  present 
which  seized  upon  the  material  next  at  hand  for  its  expres¬ 
sion,  namely,  upon  the  associations  concerning  myself.  How 
far  this  is  parallel  to  the  experiences  revealed  by  dream 
investigation  (Freud’s 3)  must  remain  undecided,  for  we  have 
no  means  of  judging  how  far  the  effect  mentioned  can  be 
considered  a  “repressed”  one.  From  the  brusque  inter¬ 
ruption  of  the  new  personality  we  may  conclude  that  the 
presentations  concerned  were  very  vivid,  with  corresponding 
intensity  of  expectation.  This  perhaps  was  an  attempt  to 
overcome  a  certain  maidenly  shyness  and  embarrassment. 
This  event  reminds  us  vividly  of  the  manner  in  which  the 
dream  presents  to  consciousness,  by  a  more  or  less  trans¬ 
parent  symbolism,  things  one  has  never  said  to  oneself 
clearly  and  openly.  We  do  not  know  when  this  dissociation 
of  the  new  personality  occurred,  whether  it  had  been  slowly 

1  Gf.  Hagen,  “  Zur  Theorie  des  Hallucinationen,”  Allg.  Zeitschrift  f. 
Psych.,  XXV.  10. 

2  Binet,  “  Les  Alterations,”  p.  157. 

3  “  Die  Traumdeutung,”  1900. 


60 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


prepared  in  the  unconscious,  or  whether  it  first  occurred  in 
the  sdance.  In  any  case  this  event  meant  a  considerable 
progress  in  the  extension  of  the  unconscious  sphere  rendered 
accessible  through  the  hypnosis.  At  the  same  time  this 
event  must  be  regarded  as  powerfully  suggestive  in  regard 
to  the  impression  which  it  made  upon  the  waking  conscious¬ 
ness  of  the  patient.  For  the  perception  of  this  unexpected 
intervention  of  a  new  power  must  inevitably  excite  a  feeling 
of  the  strangeness  of  the  automatisms,  and  would  easily 
suggest  the  thought  that  an  independent  spirit  is  here  making 
itself  known.  Hence  the  intelligible  association  that  she 
would  finally  be  able  to  see  this  spirit.  The  situation  that 
ensued  at  the  second  seance  is  to  be  explained  by  the  coin¬ 
cidence  of  this  energising  suggestion  with  the  heightened 
suggestibility  conditioned  by  the  darkness.  The  hypnosis  and 
with  it  the  series  of  dissociated  presentations  break  through 
to  the  visual  area,  and  the  expression  of  the  unconscious, 
hitherto  purely  motor,  is  made  objective,  according  to  the 
measure  of  the  specific  energy  of  the  new  system,  in  the 
shape  of  visual  images  with  the  character  of  hallucinations, 
not  as  a  mere  accompanying  phenomenon  of  the  word-auto¬ 
matism,  but  as  a  substituted  function.  The  explanation  of 
the  situation  that  arose  in  the  first  seance,  at  that  time  un¬ 
expected  and  inexplicable,  is  no  longer  presented  in  words, 
but  as  a  descriptive  allegorical  vision.  The  sentence  “  they 
do  not  hate  one  another,  but  are  friends,”  is  expressed 
in  a  picture.  We  often  encounter  events  of  this  kind  in 
somnambulism.  The  thinking  of  somnambulists  is  given  in 
plastic  images  which  constantly  break  into  this  or  that 
sense-sphere  and  are  made  objective  in  hallucinations.  The 
process  of  reflection  sinks  into  the  subconscious ;  only  its 
end-results  arise  to  consciousness  as  presentations  vividly 
tinged  by  the  senses,  or  directly  as  hallucinations.  In  our 
case  the  same  thing  occurred  as  in  the  patient  whose 
anaesthetic  hand  Binet  pricked  nine  times,  which  made  her 
think  of  the  figure  9 ;  or  as  in  Flournoy’s 1  Helen  Smith, 


1  Flournoy,  l.c.,  p.  55. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  61 

who,  when  asked  during  business-hours  about  certain  patterns, 
suddenly  saw  the  number  of  days  (18)  for  which  they  had 
been  lent,  at  a  length  of  20  mm.  in  front  of  her.  The 
further  question  arises,  why  does  the  automatism  appeal  in 
the  visual  and  not  in  the  acoustic  sphere  ?  There  are  several 
grounds  for  this  choice  of  the  visual  sphere. 

(1)  The  patient  is  not  gifted  acoustically;  she  is,  for 

instance,  very  unmusical. 

(2)  There  was  no  stillness  corresponding  to  the  darkness 
which  might  have  favoured  the  appearance  of  sounds ;  there 
was  a  lively  conversation. 

(3)  The  increased  conviction  of  the  near  presence  of 
spirits,  because  the  automatism  felt  so  strange,  could  easily 
have  aroused  the  idea  that  a  spirit  might  be  seen,  thus 
causing  a  slight  excitation  of  the  visual  sphere. 

(4)  The  entoptic  phenomena  in  darkness  favoured  the 
occurrence  of  hallucinations. 

The  reasons  (3)  and  (4) — the  entoptic  phenomena  in  the 
darkness  and  the  probable  excitation  of  the  visual  sphere  are 
of  decisive  importance  for  the  appearance  of  hallucinations. 
The  entoptic  phenomena  in  this  case  play  the  same  role  in 
the  auto-suggestion,  the  production  of  the  automatism,  as  the 
slight  tactile  stimuli  in  hypnosis  of  the  motor  centre.  As 
stated,  flashes  preceded  the  first  hallucinatory  twilight-state. 
Obviously  attention  was  already  at  a  high  pitch,  and  directed 
to  visual  perceptions,  so  that  the  retina’s  own  light,  usually 
very  weak,  was  seen  with  great  intensity.  The  part  played 
by  entoptic  perceptions  of  light  in  the  origin  of  hallucinations 
deserves  further  consideration.  Schiile1  says  :  “  The  swarm¬ 
ing  of  light  and  colour  which  stimulates  and  animates  the 
field  of  vision  although  in  the  dark,  supplies  the  material  for 
phantastic  figures  in  the  air  before  falling  asleep.  As  we 
know,  absolute  darkness  is  never  seen;  a  few  particles  of 
the  dark  field  of  vision  are  always  illumined ;  flecks  of  light 
move  here  and  there,  and  combine  into  all  kinds  of  figures  ; 
it  only  needs  a  moderately  active  imagination  to  create 


1  Schiile,  “  Handbuch,”  p.  134. 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


out  of  them,  as  one  does  out  of  clouds,  certain  known 
figures.  The  power  of  reasoning,  fading  as  one  falls  asleep, 
leaves  phantasy  free  play  to  construct  very  vivid  figures. 
In  the  place  of  the  light  spots,  haziness  and  changing 

colours  of  the  dark  visual  field,  there  arise  definite  outlines  of 
objects.” 1 

In  this  way  hypnagogic  hallucinations  arise.  The  chief 
role  naturally  belongs  to  the  imagination,  hence  imaginative 
people  in  particular  are  subject  to  hypnagogic  hallucinations.2 

The  hypnopompic  hallucinations  described  by  Myers  arise  in 
the  same  way. 

It  is  highly  probable  that  hypnagogic  pictures  are  iden- 
tical  with  the  dream-pictures  of  normal  sleep— forming  their 
visual  foundation.  Maury  3  has  proved  from  self-observation 
that  the  pictures  which  hovered  around  him  hypnagogically 
were  also  the  objects  of  the  dreams  that  followed.  G.  Trum¬ 
bull  Ladd4  has  shown  this  even  more  convincingly.  By 
practice  he  succeeded  in  waking  himself  suddenly  two  to 
five  minutes  after  falling  asleep.  He  then  observed  that  the 
figures  dancing  before  the  retina  at  times  represented  the 
same  contours  as  the  pictures  just  dreamed  of.  He  even 
states  that  nearly  every  visual  dream  is  shaped  by  the  re¬ 
tina’s  own  light  figures.  In  our  case  the  fantastic  rendering 
of  these  pictures  was  favoured  by  the  situation.  We  must 
not  underrate  the  influence  of  the  over-excited  expec¬ 
tation  which  allowed  the  dull  retina-light  to  appear  with 
increased  intensity.5  The  further  formation  of  the  retinal 


1  J*  Muller,  quoted  Allg.  Zeit.f.  Psych.,  XXV.  41. 

t  wr-M?in°7Za  hypnopompically  saw  a  “  nigrum  et  scabiosum  Brasilianum." — 
J.  Muller,  l.c. 

In  Goethe’s  “  The  Elective  Affinities,”  at  times  in  the  half  darkness  Ottilie 
saw  the  figure  of  Edward  in  a  dimly-lit  spot.  Compare  also  Cardanus, 
imagines  videbam  ab  imp  lecti,  quasi  e  parvulis  annulis  arcisque  constantes, 
arborum,  belluarum,  hominum,  oppidorum,  instructarum  acierum,  bellicorum 
et  musicorum  mstrumentorum  aliorumque  huius  generis  adscendentes, 
vicissimque  descendentes,  aliis  atque  aliis  succedentibus  ”  (Hieronymus 
Cardanus,  “  De  subtilitate  rerum  ”). 

3  “Le  sommeil  et  les  reves,”  p.  134. 

, r.  *  ,G‘ ■  Trumbull  Ladd,  “  Contribution  to  the  Psychology  of  Visual  Dreams,” 
Mind,  April,  1892. 

3  Hecker  says  of  the  same  condition,  “  There  is  a  simple  elemental  vision 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  68 


appearances  follows  in  accordance  with  the  predominating 
presentations.  That  hallucinations  appear  in  this  way  has 
been  also  observed  in  other  visionaries.  J eanne  d’ Arc 1  first  saw 
a  cloud  of  light,  and  only  after  some  time  there  stepped  forth 
St.  Michael,  St.  Catherine  and  St.  Margaret.  For  a  whole 
hour  Swedenborg2  saw  nothing  but  illuminated  spheres  and 
fiery  flames.  He  felt  a  mighty  change  in  the  brain,  which 
seemed  to  him  “  release  of  light.”  After  the  space  of  one 
hour  he  suddenly  saw  red  figures  which  he  regarded  as 
angels  and  spirits.  The  sun  visions  of  Benvenuto  Cellini3 
in  Engelsburg  are  probably  of  the  same  nature.  A  student 
who  frequently  saw  apparitions,  stated :  “  When  these  ap¬ 
paritions  come,  at  first  I  only  see  single  masses  of  light  and 
at  the  same  time  am  conscious  of  a  dull  noise  in  the  ears. 
Gradually  these  contours  become  clear  figures.” 

The  appearance  of  hallucinations  occurred  in  a  quite 
classical  way  in  Flournoy’s  Helen  Smith.  I  quote  the 
cases  in  question  from  his  article.4 

“  18  Mars.  Tentative  d’experience  dans  l’obscurite  Mile. 
Smith  voit  un  ballon  tantot  luminieux,  tantot  s’obscurcissant. 

“  25  Mars.  Mile.  Smith  commence  a  distinguer  de  vagues 
lueurs,  de  longs  rubans  blancs,  s’agitant  du  plancher  au 
plafond,  puis  enfin  une  magnifique  etoile  qui  dans  l’obscurite 
s’est  montree  a  elle  seule  pendant  toute  la  seance. 

“  1  Avril.  Mile.  Smith  se  sent  tres  agitee,  elle  a  des 
frissons,  est  partiellement  glacee.  Elle  est  tres  inquiete  et 
voit  tout  a  coup  se  balangant  au-dessus  de  la  table  une  figure 
grima9ante  et  tres  laide  avec  de  longs  cheveux  rouges. 
Elle  voit  alors  un  magnifique  bouquet  de  roses  de  nuances 
diverses ;  tout  a  coup  elle  voit  sortir  de  dessous  le  bouquet 
un  petit  serpent,  qui,  rampant  doucement,  vient  sentir  les 
fleurs,  les  regarde,”  etc. 

through  over-excitation  of  mental  activity  not  leading  to  phantastic  imagery 
even  without  sense  presentation ;  that  is  the  vision  of  light  free  from  form,  a 
manifestation  of  the  visual  organs  stimulated  from  within  ”  (“  Ueber 
Visionen,”  Berlin,  1848). 

1  Jules  Quicherat,  “  Proems  de  condamnation  et  de  rehabilitation  de  Jeanne 
d’Arc,  dite  La  Pucelle,”  etc. 

2  Hagen,  Z.c.,  p.  57. 

4  Flournoy,  l.c.,  p.  32  ff. 


3  Goethe,  “  Benvenuto  Cellini.” 


64 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


Helen  Smith 1  says  in  regard  to  the  origin  of  her  vision 
of  March  : 

“  La  lueur  rouge  persista  autour  de  moi  et  je  me  suis 
trouvee  entouree  de  fleurs  extraordinaires.” 

At  all  times  the  complex  hallucinations  of  visionaries 
have  occupied  a  peculiar  place  in  scientific  criticism.  Macario 2 
early  separated  these  so-called  intuition-hallucinations  from 
others,  since  he  maintains  that  they  occur  in  persons  of 
an  eager  mind,  deep  understanding  and  high  nervous  ex¬ 
citability.  Hecker3  expresses  himself  similarly  but  more 
enthusiastically. 

His  view  is  that  their  condition  is  “  the  congenital  high 
development  of  the  spiritual  organ  which  calls  into  active, 
free  and  mobile  play  the  life  of  the  imagination,  bringing  it 
spontaneous  activity.”  These  hallucinations  are  “  precursors 
or  signs  of  mighty  spiritual  power.”  The  vision  is  “an 
increased  excitation  which  is  harmoniously  adapted  to  the 
most  complete  health  of  mind  and  body.”  The  complex 
hallucinations  do  not  belong  to  the  waking  state,  but  prefer 
as  a  rule  a  partial  waking  state.  The  visionary  is  buried 
in  his  vision  even  to  complete  annihilation.  Flournoy  was 
also  always  able  to  prove  in  the  visions  of  H.S.  “  un  certain 
degre  d’obnubilation.”  In  our  case  the  vision  is  complicated 
by  a  state  of  sleep  whose  peculiarities  we  shall  review  later. 


The  Change  in  Character. 

The  most  striking  characteristic  of  the  second  stage  in 
our  case  is  the  change  in  character.  We  meet  many  cases 
in  the  literature  which  have  offered  the  symptom  of 
spontaneous  character-change.  The  first  case  in  a  scientific 
publication  is  Weir-Mitch ell’s 4  case  of  Mary  Reynolds. 

1  Flournoy,  l.c.,  p.  51. 

2  Allg.  Zeit.f.  Psych.,  IV.  139. 

3  Ibid.,  VI.  285. 

4  Coll.  Physicians  of  Philadelphia,  April  4,  188S.  Also  Harper's  Maga¬ 
zine,  1869.  Abstracted  in  extenso  in  William  James’s  “  Principles  of 
Psychology,”  1891,  p.  391  ff. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  65 


It  was  the  case  of  a  young  woman  living  in  Pennsylvania 
in  1811.  After  a  deep  sleep  of  about  twenty  hours  she 
had  totally  forgotten  her  entire  past  and  everything  she 
had  learnt;  even  the  words  she  spoke  had  lost  their 

meaning.  She  no  longer  knew  her  relatives.  Slowly  she 
re-learnt  to  read  and  write,  but  her  writing  was  from 

right  to  left.  More  striking  still  was  the  change  in  her 
character.  Instead  of  being  melancholy  she  was  now 

cheerful  to  the  extreme.  Instead  of  being  reserved  she 
was  buoyant  and  sociable.  Formerly  taciturn  and  retiring, 
she  was  now  merry  and  jocose.  Her  disposition  was  totally 
changed.1 

In  this  state  she  renounced  her  former  retired  life,  and 
liked  to  undertake  adventurous  excursions  unarmed,  through 
wood  and  mountain  on  foot  and  horseback.  In  one  of  these 
excursions  she  encountered  a  large  black  bear,  which  she  took 
for  a  pig.  The  bear  raised  himself  on  his  hind  legs  and 
gnashed  his  teeth  at  her.  As  she  could  not  drive  her  horse 
on  any  further,  she  took  an  ordinary  stick  and  hit  the  bear 
until  it  took  to  flight.  Five  weeks  later,  after  a  deep  sleep, 
she  returned  to  her  earlier  state  with  amnesia  for  the  interval. 
These  states  alternated  for  about  sixteen  years.  But  her  last 
twenty-five  years  Mary  Reynolds  passed  exclusively  in  her  second 
state. 

Schroeder  von  der  Kalk 2  reports  on  the  following  case  : 
The  patient  became  ill  at  the  age  of  sixteen  with  periodic 
amnesia,  after  a  previous  tedious  illness  of  three  years. 
Sometimes  in  the  morning  after  waking  she  passed  through 
a  peculiar  choreic  state,  during  which  she  made  rhythmical 
movements  with  her  arms.  The  whole  day  she  would  then 
exhibit  a  childish,  silly  behaviour  and  had  lost  all  her 
educated  capabilities.  (When  normal  she  is  very  intelli¬ 
gent,  well  read,  speaks  French  well.)  In  the  second  state 
she  begins  to  speak  faulty  French.  On  the  second  day  she 

1  Cf.  Emminghaus,  “  Allg.  Psychopathologie,”  p.  129,  Ogier  Ward’s  case. 

2  Schroeder  von  der  Kalk,  “  Pathologie  und  Therapie  der  Geisteskrank- 
heiten,”  p.  31 :  Braunschweig,  1863.  Quoted  in  Allg.  Zeit.  f.  Psych.,  XXII., 
p.  405. 


5 


66 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


is  again  at  times  normal.  The  two  states  are  completely 
separated  by  amnesia.1 

Hoefelt 2  reports  on  a  case  of  spontaneous  somnambulism 
in  a  girl  who  in  her  normal  state  was  submissive  and  modest, 
but  in  somnambulism  was  impertinent,  rude  and  violent. 
Azam’s 3  Felida  was,  in  her  normal  state,  depressed,  inhibited, 
timid ;  and  in  the  second  state  lively,  confident,  enterprising 
to  recklessness.  The  second  state  gradually  became  the  chief 
one ,  and  finally  so  far  suppressed  the  first  state  that  the  patient 
called  her  normal  states,  lasting  now  but  a  short  time,  “  crises .” 
The  amnesic  attacks  had  begun  at  14J.  In  time  the 
second  state  became  milder  and  there  was  a  certain  approxi¬ 
mation  between  the  character  of  the  two  states.  A  very 
striking  example  of  change  in  character  is  that  worked  out 
by  Camuset,  Ribot,  Legrand  du  Saulle,  Richer,  Yoisin,  and 
put  together  by  Bourru  and  Burot.4  It  is  that  of  Louis  V., 
a  severe  male  hysteric  with  amnesic  alternating  character. 
In  the  first  stage  he  is  rude,  cheeky,  querulous,  greedy, 
thievish,  inconsiderate.  In  the  second  state  he  is  an 
agreeable,  sympathetic  character,  industrious,  docile  and 
obedient.  This  amnesic  change  of  character  has  been  used 
by  Paul  Lindau5  in  his  drama  “Der  Andere  ”  (The  Other 
One). 

Rieger6  reports  on  a  case  parallel  to  Lindau’s  criminal 
lawyer.  The  unconscious  personalities  of  Janet’s  Lucie  and 
Leonie  (Janet,  l.c.)  and  Morton  Prince’s  7  may  also  be  re¬ 
garded  as  parallel  with  our  case.  There  are,  however, 
therapeutic  artificial  products  whose  importance  lies  in  the 
domain  of  the  dissociation  of  consciousness  and  of  memory. 

In  the  cases  reported  upon,  the  second  state  is  always 
separated  from  the  first  by  an  amnesic  dissociation,  and  the 

1  Cf.  Donath,  “  Ueber  Suggestibility,”  Weiner  mediz.  Presse,  1832,  No. 
31.  Quoted  Arch.  f.  Psych.,  XXXII.,  p.  335. 

2  Hoefelt.  Allg.  Zeit.f.  Psych.,  XLIX.,  p.  200. 

3  Azam,  “  Hypnotisme,  Double  Conscience,”  etc. 

1  Bourru  et  Burot,  “  Changements  de  Personnnalit6,”  1888. 

5  Moll,  “  Zeit.  f.  Hypn.,”  I.,  306. 

6  Rieger,  “  Der  Iiypnotismus,”  1884,  p.  190  fi. 

7  Morton  Prince,  “  An  Experimental  Study  of  Visions,”  Brain,  1898. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  67 


change  in  character  is,  at  times,  accompanied  by  a  break  in 
the  continuity  of  consciousness.  In  our  case  there  is  no 
amnesic  disturbance  ;  the  passage  from  the  first  to  the  second 
state  follows  quite  gradually  and  the  continuity  of  conscious¬ 
ness  remains.  The  patient  carries  out  in  her  waking  state 
everything  from  the  field  of  the  unconscious  that  she  has 
experienced  during  hallucinations  in  the  second  stage  other¬ 
wise  unknown  to  her. 

Periodic  changes  in  personality  without  amnesic  dissocia¬ 
tion  are  found  in  the  region  of  folie  circulaire,  but  are  rarely 
seen  in  hysterics,  as  Renaudin’s  1  case  shows.  A  young  man, 
whose  behaviour  had  always  been  excellent,  suddenly  began 
to  display  the  worst  tendencies.  There  were  no  symptoms  of 
insanity,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  the  whole  surface  of  the 
body  was  anaesthetic.  This  state  showed  periodic  intervals, 
and  in  the  same  way  the  patient’s  character  was  sub¬ 
ject  to  vacillations.  As  soon  as  the  anaesthesia  dis¬ 
appeared  he  was  manageable  and  friendly.  When  the 
anaesthesia  returned  he  was  overcome  by  the  worst  in¬ 
stincts,  which,  it  was  observed,  could  even  include  the  wish 
to  murder. 

Remembering  that  our  patient’s  age  at  the  beginning  of 
the  disturbances  was  14J,  that  is,  the  age  of  puberty  had 
just  been  reached,  one  must  suppose  that  there  was  some 
connection  between  the  disturbances  and  the  physiological 
character-changes  at  puberty.  “  There  appears  in  the  con¬ 
sciousness  of  the  individual  during  this  period  of  life  a  new 
group  of  sensations,  together  with  the  feelings  and  ideas 
arising  therefrom ;  this  continuous  pressure  of  unaccustomed 
mental  states  makes  itself  constantly  felt  because  the  cause 
is  always  at  work ;  the  states  are  co-ordinated  because  they 
arise  from  one  and  the  same  source,  and  must  little  by 
little  bring  about  deep-seated  changes  in  the  ego.”2  Vacil¬ 
lating  moods  are  easily  recognisable;  the  confused  new, 
strong  feelings,  the  inclination  towards  idealism,  to  exalted 
religiosity  and  mysticism,  side  by  side  with  the  falling  back 

1  Quoted  by  Ribot,  “  Die  Personlickkeit.” 

2  Ibid.,  p.  69. 


68 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


into  childishness,  gives  to  adolescence  its  prevailing 
character.  At  this  epoch,  the  human  being  first  makes 
clumsy  attempts  at  independence  in  every  direction ;  for 
the  first  time  uses  for  his  own  purposes  all  that  family 
and  school  have  contributed  hitherto ;  he  conceives  ideals, 
constructs  far-reaching  plans  for  the  future,  lives  in  dreams 
whose  content  is  ambitious  and  egotistic.  This  is  all  physio¬ 
logical.  The  puberty  of  a  psychopathic  is  a  crisis  of  more 
serious  import.  Not  only  do  the  psychophysical  changes 
run  a  stormy  course,  but  features  of  a  hereditary  de¬ 
generate  character  become  fixed.  In  the  child  these  do  not 
appear  at  all,  or  but  sporadically.  For  the  explanation 
of  our  case  we  are  bound  to  consider  a  specific  disturbance 
of  puberty.  The  reasons  for  this  view  will  appear  from 
a  further  study]  of  the  second  personality.  (For  the  sake 
of  brevity  we  shall  call  the  second  personality  Ivenes — as 
the  patient  baptised  her  higher  ego). 

Ivenes  is  the  exact  continuation  of  the  everyday  ego. 
She  includes  the  whole  of  her  conscious  content.  In  the  semi- 
somnambulic  state  her  intercourse  with  the  real  external  world 
is  analogous  to  that  of  the  waking  state,  that  is,  she  is  influ¬ 
enced  by  recurrent  hallucinations,  but  no  more  than  persons 
who  are  subject  to  non-confusional  psychotic  hallucinations. 
The  continuity  of  Ivenes  obviously  extends  to  the  hysterical 
attack  with  its  dramatic  scenes,  visionary  events,  etc.  During 
the  attack  itself  she  is  generally  isolated  from  the  external 
world ;  she  does  not  notice  what  is  going  on  around  her, 
does  not  know  that  she  is  talking  loudly,  etc.  But  she  has 
no  amnesia  for  the  dream-content  of  her  attack.  Amnesia 
for  her  motor  expressions  and  for  the  changes  in  her  sur¬ 
roundings  is  not  always  present.  That  this  is  dependent  upon 
the  degree  of  intensity  of  her  somnambulic  state  and  that 
there  is  sometimes  partial  paralysis  of  individual  sense  organs, 
is  proved  by  the  occasion  when  she  did  not  notice  me ;  her 
eyes  then  were  open,  and  most  probably  she  saw  the  others ; 
although  she  only  perceived  me  when  I  spoke  to  her.  This 
is  a  case  of  so-called  systematised  anesthesia  (negative  hallu¬ 
cination)  .which  is  often  observed  in  hysterics. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  69 


Flournoy,1  for  instance,  reports  of  Helen  Smith  that 
during  the  seances  she  suddenly  ceased  to  see  those  taking 
part,  although  she  still  heard  their  voices  and  felt  their 
touch ;  sometimes  she  no  longer  heard,  although  she  saw  the 
movements  of  the  lips  of  the  speakers,  etc. 

Ivenes  is  just  the  continuation  of  the  waking  self.  She 
contains  the  entire  consciousness  of  S.  W.’s  waking  state. 
Her  remarkable  behaviour  tells  decidedly  against  any  analogy 
with  cases  of  double  consciousness .  The  characteristics  of 
Ivenes  contrast  favourably  with  the  patient’s  ordinary  self. 
She  is  a  calmer,  more  composed  personality ;  her  pleasing 
modesty  and  accuracy,  her  uniform  intelligence,  her  con¬ 
fident  way  of  talking  must  be  regarded  as  an  improvement 
of  the  whole  being ;  thus  far  there  is  analogy  with  Janet’s 
Leonie.  But  this  is  the  extent  of  the  similarity.  Apart 
from  the  amnesia,  they  are  divided  by  a  deep  psychological 
difference.  Leonie  II.  is  the  healthier,  the  more  normal ;  she 
has  regained  her  natural  capabilities,  she  shows  remarkable 
improvement  upon  her  chronic  condition  of  hysteria.  Ivenes 
rather  gives  the  impression  of  a  more  artificial  product ;  there 
is  something  thought  out ;  despite  all  her  excellences  she 
gives  the  impression  of  playing  a  part  excellently ;  her  world- 
sorrow,  her  yearning  for  the  other  side  of  things,  are  not 
merely  piety  but  the  attributes  of  saintliness.  Ivenes  is  no 
mere  human,  but  a  mystic  being  who  only  partly  belongs  to 
reality:  The  mournful  features,  the  attachment  to  sorrow, 
her  mysterious  fate,  lead  us  to  the  historic  prototype  of  Ivenes 
— Justinus  Kerner’s  “  Prophetess  of  Prevorst.”  Kerner’s 
book  must  be  taken  as  known,  and  therefore  I  omit  any 
references  to  these  common  traits.  But  Ivenes  is  no  copy  of 
the  prophetess;  she  lacks  the  resignation  and  the  saintly 
piety  of  the  latter.  The  prophetess  is  merely  used  by  her  as 
a  study  for  her  own  original  conception.  The  patient  pours 
her  own  soul  into  the  role  of  the  prophetess,  thus  seeking  to 
create  an  ideal  of  virtue  and  perfection.  She  anticipates 
her  future.  She  incarnates  in  Ivenes  what  she  wishes*  to 
be  in  twenty  years — the  assured,'  influential,  wise,  gracious, 

1  Flournoy,  l.c.,  p.  59. 


70 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


pious  lady.  It  is  in  the  construction  of  the  second  person 
that  there  lies  the  far-reaching  difference  between  Leonie  II. 
and  Ivenes.  Both  are  psychogenic.  But  Leonie  I.  receives 
in  Leonie  II.  what  really  belongs  to  her,  while  S.  W.  builds 
up  a  person  beyond  herself.  It  cannot  be  said  “  she  de¬ 
ceives  herself”  into,  but  that  “she  dreams  herself”  into 
the  higher  ideal  state.1 

The  realisation  of  this  dream  recalls  vividly  the  psychology 
of  the  pathological  cheat.  Delbruck2  and  Forel3  have  in¬ 
dicated  the  importance  of  auto-suggestion  in  the  formation  of 
pathological  cheating  and  reverie.  Pick 4  regards  intense  auto- 
suggestibility  as  the  first  symptom  of  the  hysterical  dreamer, 
making  possible  the  realisation  of  the  “day  dreamer.”  One 
of  Pick’s  patients  dreamt  that  she  was  in  a  morally  dangerous 
situation,  and  finally  carried  out  an  attempt  at  rape  on  herself ; 
she  lay  on  the  floor  naked  and  fastened  herself  to  a  table  and 
chairs.  Or  some  dramatic  person  will  be  created  with  whom 
the  patient  enters  into  correspondence  by  letter,  as  in  Bohn’s 
case.5  The  patient  dreamt  herself  into  an  engagement  with 
a  iotally  imaginary  lawyer  in  Nice,  from  whom  she  received 
letters  which  she  had  herself  written  in  disguised  hand¬ 
writing.  This  pathological  dreaming,  with  auto-suggestive 
deceptions  of  memory  amounting  to  real  delusions  and 
hallucinations,  is  pre-eminently  to  be  found  in  the  lives  of 
many  saints.6 

It  is  only  a  step  from  the  dreamlike  images  strongly 


1  “  Les  reves  somnambuliques,  sortes  de  romans  de  l’imagination  sublimi- 
nale,  analogues  a  ces  histoires  continues,  que  tant  de  gens  se  racontent  a  eux- 
memes  et  dont  ils  sont  g6n6ralement  les  h6ros  dans  leurs  moments  de  far 
niente  ou  d’occupations  routinieres  qui  n’offrent  qu’un  faible  obstacle  aux 
reveries  int6rieures.  Constructions  fantaisistes,  millefois  reprises  et  pour- 
suivies,  rarement  achev6es,  ou  la  folle  du  logis  se  donne  libre  carriere  et 
prend  sa  revanche  du  terne  et  plat  terre  a  terre  des  r6alit6s  quotidiennes  ” 
(Flournoy,  l.c.,  p.  8). 

2  Delbruck,  “  Die  Pathologische  Luge.” 

3  Forel,  “  Hypnotisme.” 

4  Pick,  “  Ueber  Path.  Traumerei  und  ihre  Beziehung  zur  Hysterie,” 
Jahr.  f.  Psych,  und  Neur.,  XIV.,  p.  280. 

5  Bohn,  “  Ein  Fall  von  doppelten  Bewusstsein  Diss.”  Breslau,  1898. 

H  Gorres,  l.c. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  71 


stamped  by  the  senses  to  the  true  complex  hallucinations.1 
In  Pick’s  case,  for  instance,  one  sees  that  the  patient,  who 
persuades  herself  that  she  is  the  Empress  Elizabeth,  gradually 
loses  herself  in  her  dreams  to  such  an  extent  that  her  con¬ 
dition  must  be  regarded  as  a  true  “  twilight  ”  state:  Later 
it  passes  over  into  hysterical  delirium,  when  her  dream 
phantasies  become  typical  hallucinations.  The  pathological 
liar,  who  becomes  involved  through  his  phantasies,  behaves 
exactly  like  a  child  who  loses  himself  in  his  play,  or  like  the 
actor  who  loses  himself  in  his  part.2  There  is  here  no 
fundamental  distinction  from  somnambulic  dissociation  of 
personality,  but  only  a  difference  of  degree,  which  rests  upon 
the  intensity  of  the  primary  auto-suggestibility  or  disintegra¬ 
tion  of  the  psychic  elements.  The  more  consciousness  becomes 
dissociated ,  the  greater  becomes  the  plasticity  of  the  dream 
situation ,  the  less  becomes  the  amount  of  conscious  lying ,  and  of 
consciousness  in  general.  This  being  carried  away  by  interest 
in  the  object  is  what  Freud  calls  hysterical  identification .  For 
instance,  to  Erler’s 3  acutely  hysterical  patient  there  appeared 
hypnagogically  little  riders  made  of  paper,  who  so  took 
possession  of  her  imagination  that  she  had  the  feeling  of 
being  herself  one  of  them.  Similar  phenomena  normally 
occur  to  us  in  dreams  in  general,  in  which  we  think  like 
“  hysterics.”  4 

The  complete  abandonment  to  the  interesting  image 
explains  also  the  wonderful  naturalness  of  pseudological 
or  somnambulic  representation — a  degree  unattainable  in 
conscious  acting.  The  less  waking  consciousness  intervenes 
by  reflection  and  reasoning,  the  more  certain  and  convincing 
becomes  the  objectivation  of  the  dream,  e.g.  the  roof-climbing 
of  somnambulists. 

Our  case  has  another  analogy  with  pseudologia  phantastica  : 

1  Cf.  Behr,  Allg.  Zeit.  f.  Psych.,  LVI.,  918,  and  Ballet,  l.c.,  p.  44. 

2  Cf.  Kedlich,  Allg.  Zeit.  f.  Psych..  LVII.,  66. 

3  Erler,  Allg.  Zeit.  f.  Psych.,  XXXV.,  21. 

4  Binet,  “  Les  hyst6riques  ne  sont  pas  pour  nous  que  des  sujets  d’£lection 
agrandissant  des  ph6nom£nes  qu’on  doit  n6cessairement  retrouver  a  quelque 
degr6  chez  une  foule  d’autres  personnes  qui  ne  sont  ni  atteintes  ni  m&me 
effleur£es  par  la  n&vrose  hyst£rique”  (“  Les  alterations,”  p.  29). 


72 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


The  development  of  the  phantasies  during  the  attacks.  Many 
cases  are  known  in  the  literature  where  the  pathological 
lying  comes  on  in  attacks  and  during  serious  hysterical 
trouble.1 

Our  patent  develops  her  systems  exclusively  in  the  attack. 
In  her  normal  state  she  is  quite  incapable  of  giving  any  new 
ideas  or  explanations  ;  she  must  either  transpose  herself  into 
somnambulism  or  await  its  spontaneous  appearance.  This 
exhausts  the  affinity  to  pseudologia  phantastica  and  to  patho¬ 
logical  dream  states. 

Our  patient’s  state  is  even  differentiated  from  pathological 
dreaming  since  it  could  never  be  proved  that  her  dream- 
weavings  had  at  any  time  previously  been  the  objects  of  her 
interest  during  the  day.  Her  dreams  occur  explosively, 
break  forth  with  bewildering  completeness  from  the  darkness 
of  the  unconscious.  Exactly  the  same  was  the  case  in 
Flournoy’s  Helen  Smith.  In  many  cases  (see  below),  how¬ 
ever,  links  with  the  perceptions  of  the  normal  states  can  be 
demonstrated :  it  seems  therefore  probable  that  the  roots 
of  every  dream  were  originally  images  with  an  emotional 
accentuation,  which,  however,  only  occupied  waking  conscious¬ 
ness  for  a  short  time.2  We  must  allow  that  in  the  origin  of 
such  dreams  hysterical  forgetfulness 3  plays  a  part  not  to  he 
underestimated. 

Many  images  are  buried  which  would  be  sufficient  to 
put  the  consciousness  on  guard ;  associated  classes  of  ideas 

1  Delbriick,  Z.c.,  and  Redlich,  Z.c.  Cf.  the  development  of  delusions  in 
epileptic  stupor  mentioned  by  Morchen,  “  Essay  on  Stupor,”  pp.  51  and  59, 
1901. 

2  Cf.  Flournoy’s  very  interesting  supposition  as  to  the  origin  of  the  Hindu 
cycle  of  H.S. :  “  Je  ne  serais  pas  6tonn6  que  la  remarque  de  Martes  sur  la 
beauty  des  femmes  du  Kanara  ait  et6  le  clou,  l’atome  crochu,  qui  a  piqu6 
l’attention  subliminale  et  l’a  tres  naturellement  riv6e  sur  cette  unique  passage 
avec  les  deux  ou  trois  lignes  consecutives,  a  l’exclusion  de  tout  le  contexte 
environnant  beaucoup  moins  int6rressant  ”  (L.c.,  p.  285). 

J  Janet  says,  “From  forgetfulness  there  arises  frequently,  even  if  not 
invariably,  the  so-called  lying  of  hysteria.  The  same  explanation  holds 
good  of  an  hysteric’s  whims,  changes  of  mood,  ingratitude — in  a  word,  of  his 
inconstancy.  The  link  between  the  past  and  present  which  gives  to  the  whole 
personality  its  seriousness  and  poise,  depends  to  a  large  extent  upon  memory  ” 
(“  Mental  States,”  etc.,  p.  67). 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  73 


are  lost  and  go  on  spinning  their  web  in  the  unconscious, 
thanks  to  the  psychic  dissociation  ;  this  is  a  process  which  we 
meet  again  in  the  genesis  of  our  dreams. 

“  Our  conscious  reflection  teaches  us  that  when  exercising 
attention  we  pursue  a  definite  course.  But  if  that  course 
leads  us  to  an  idea  which  does  not  meet  with  our  approval, 
we  discontinue  and  cease  to  apply  our  attention.  Now, 
apparently,  the  chain  of  thought  thus  started  and  abandoned, 
may  go  on  without  regaining  attention  unless  it  reaches 
a  spot  of  especially  marked  intensity,  which  compels  renewed 
attention.  An  initial  rejection,  perhaps  consciously  brought 
about  by  the  judgment  on  the  ground  of  incorrectness  or 
unfitness  for  the  actual  purpose  of  the  mental  act,  may 
therefore  account  for  the  fact  that  a  mental  process  continues 
unnoticed  by  consciousness  until  the  onset  of  sleep.”  1 

In  this  way  we  may  explain  the  apparently  sudden  and 
direct  appearance  of  dream  states.  The  entire  carrying 
over  of  the  conscious  personality  into  the  dream  role  involves 
indirectly  the  development  of  simultaneous  automatisms. 
“  Une  seconde  condition  peut  amener  la  division  de  conscience ; 
ce  n’est  pas  une  alteration  de  la  sensibility,  c’est  une  attitude 
particuliere  de  l’esprit,  la  concentration  de  l’attention  pour 
un  point  unique ;  il  resulte  de  cet  etat  de  concentration  que 
l’esprit  devient  distrait  pour  la  reste  et  en  quelque  sorte 
insensible,  ce  qui  ouvre  la  carriere  aux  actions  automatiques, 
et  ces  actions  peuvent  prendre  un  caractere  psychique  et 
constituer  des  intelligences  parasites,  vivant  cote  a  cote  avec 
la  personnalite  normale  qui  ne  les  connait  pas.” 2 

The  patient's  romances  throw  a  most  significant  light  on 
the  subjective  roots  of  her  dreams.  They  swarm  with  secret 
and  open  love  affairs,  with  illegitimate  births  and  other 
sexual  insinuations.  The  central  point  of  all  these  ambiguous 
stories  is  a  lady  whom  she  dislikes,  who  is  gradually  made  to 
assume  the  form  of  her  polar  opposite,  and  whilst  Ivenes 
becomes  the  pinnacle  of  virtue,  this  lady  is  a  sink  of  iniquity. 
But  her  reincarnation  doctrines,  in  which  she  appears  as  the 

1  Freud,  “  The  Interpretation  of  Dreams,”  p.  469. 

2  Binet,  l.c.,  p.  84. 


74 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


mother  of  countless  thousands ,  arises  in  its  naive  nakedness  from 
an  exuberant  phantasy  which  is,  of  course ,  very  characteristic 
of  the  period  of  puberty.  It  is  the  woman's  premonition  of  the 
sexual  feeling ,  the  dream  of  fruitfulness ,  ivhich  the  patient  has 
turned  into  these  monstrous  ideas.  We  shall  not  go  wrong  if 
we  seek  for  the  curious  form  of  the  disease  in  the  teeming 
sexuality  of  this  too-rich  soil.  Viewed  from  this  standpoint, 
the  whole  creation  of  Ivenes  with  her  enormous  family  is 
nothing  but  a  dream  of  sexual  wish-fulfilment,  differentiated 
from  the  dream  of  a  night  only  in  that  it  persists  for 
months  and  years. 


Relation  to  the  Hysterical  Attack. 


So  far  one  point  in  S.W.’s  history  has  remained  un¬ 
explained,  and  that  is  her  attack.  In  the  second  seance  she 
was  suddenly  seized  with  a  sort  of  fainting  fit,  from  which 
she  awoke  with  a  recollection  of  various  hallucinations. 
According  to  her  own  statement,  she  had  not  lost  conscious¬ 
ness  for  a  moment.  Judging  from  the  external  symptoms 
and  the  course  of  the  attack,  one  is  inclined  to  regard  it  as 
a  narcolepsy ,  or  rather  a  lethargy;  such,  for  example,  as 
Loewenfeld  has  described,  and  the  more  readily  as  we  know 
that  previously  one  member  of  her  family  (her  grandmother) 
had  an  attack  of  lethargy.  It  is  possible  to  imagine  that 
the  lethargic  disposition  (Loewenfeld)  had  descended  to  our 
patient.  In  spiritualistic  seances  it  is  not  usual  to  see 
hysterical  convulsions.  Our  patient  showed  no  sort  of  con¬ 
vulsive  symptoms,  but  in  their  place,  perhaps,  the  peculiar 
sleeping  states.  iEtiologically  at  the  outset  two  moments 
must  be  taken  into  consideration  : 

1.  The  irruption  of  hypnosis. 

2.  The  psychic  stimulation. 

1.  Irruption  of  Partial  Hypnosis. — Janet  observes  that  the 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  75 


sub-conscious  automatisms  have  a  hypnotic  influence  and 
can  bring  about  complete  somnambulism.1 

He  made  the  following  experiment :  While  the  patient, 
who  was  in  the  completely  waking  state,  was  engaged  in 
conversation  by  a  second  observer,  Janet  stationed  himself 
behind  her  and  by  means  of  whispered  suggestions  made  her 
unconsciously  move  her  hand  and  by  written  signs  give  an 
answer  to  questions.  Suddenly  the  patient  broke  off  the 
conversation,  turned  round  and  with  her  supraliminal  con¬ 
sciousness  continued  the  previously  subconscious  talk  with 
Janet.  She  had  fallen  into  hypnotic  somnambulism.2 

There  is  here  a  state  of  affairs  similar  to  our  patient’s. 
But  it  must  be  noted  that,  for  certain  reasons  discussed  later, 
the  sleeping  state  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  hypnotic.  We 
therefore  come  to  the  question  of — 

2.  The  Psychic  Stimulation. — It  is  told  of  Bettina  Brentano 
that  the  first  time  she  met  Goethe  she  suddenly  fell  asleep  on 
his  knee.3 

This  ecstatic  sleep  in  the  midst  of  extremest  torture,  the 
so-called  “  witch-sleep,”  is  well  known  in  the  history  of 
trials  for  witchcraft.4 

With  susceptible  subjects  relatively  insignificant  stimuli 
suffice  to  bring  about  the  somnambulic  state.  Thus  a 
sensitive  lady  had  to  have  a  splinter  cut  out  of  her  finger. 
Without  any  kind  of  bodily  change  she  suddenly  saw  her¬ 
self  sitting  by  the  side  of  a  brook  in  a  beautiful  meadow, 
plucking  flowers.  This  condition  lasted  as  long  as  the 
slight  operation  and  then  disappeared  spontaneously.5 


1  “Une  autre  consideration  rapproche  encore  ces  deux  6tats,  c’est  que 
les  actes  subconscients  ont  un  effet  en  quelque  sorte  hypnotisant  et  con- 
tribuant  par  eux-memes  a  amener  le  somnambulisme  ”  (“  L’Automatisme,” 
p.  329). 

2  Janet,  l.c.,  p.  329. 

3  In  literature  Gustave  Flaubert  has  made  use  of  a  similar  falling  asleep 
at  the  moment  of  extreme  excitement  in  his  novel  “  Salambo.”  When  the 
hero,  after  many  struggles,  has  at  last  captured  Salambo,  he  suddenly  falls 
asleep  just  as  he  touches  her  virginal  bosom. 

*  Perhaps  the  cases  of  paralysis  of  the  emotions  also  belong  here.  Cf. 
Baetz,  Allg.  Zeitsch.  f.  Psych.,  LVIII.,  p.  717. 

5  Allg.  Zeitsch.  f.  Psych.,  XXX.,  p.  17. 


76 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


Loewenfeld 1  has  noticed  unintentional  inducement  of 
hysterical  lethargy  through  hypnosis. 

Our  case  has  certain  resemblances  to  hysterical  lethargy 2 
as  described  by  Loewenfeld,  viz.  the  shallow  breathing,  the 
diminution  of  the  pulse,  the  corpse-like  pallor  of  the  face, 
and  further  the  peculiar  feeling  of  dying  and  the  thoughts 
of  death.3 

The  retention  of  one  sense  is  not  inconsistent  w7ith  lethargy: 
thus  in  certain  cases  of  trance  the  sense  of  hearing  remains.4 

In  Bonamaison’s  5  case  not  only  was  the  sense  of  touch 
retained,  but  the  senses  of  hearing  and  smell  were  quickened. 
The  hallucinatory  content  and  loud  speaking  is  also  met  with 
in  persons  with  hallucinations  in  lethargy.6  Usually  there 
prevails  total  amnesia  for  the  lethargic  interval.  Loewen- 
feld’s7  case  D.  had,  however,  a  fleeting  recollection;  in 
Bonamaison’s  case  there  was  no  amnesia.  Lethargic  patients 
do  not  prove  susceptible  to  the  usual  waking  stimuli,  but 
Loewenfeld  succeeded  with  his  patient  St.  in  turning  the 
lethargy  into  hypnosis  by  means  of  mesmeric  passes,  thus 
combining  it  with  the  rest  of  consciousness  during  the 
attack.8  Our  patient  showed  herself  absolutely  insusceptible 
in  the  beginning  of  the  lethargy,  but  later  on  she  began  to 
speak  spontaneously,  was  incapable  of  giving  any  attention 
when  her  somnambulic  ego  was  speaking,  but  could  attend 
when  it  was  one  of  her  automatic  personalities.  In  this  last 
case  it  is  probable  that  the  hypnotic  effect  of  the  auto¬ 
matisms  succeeded  in  achieving  a  partial  transformation  of 
the  lethargy  into  hypnosis.  When  we  consider  that,  according 
to  Loewenfeld’s  view,  the  lethargic  disposition  must  not  be 
“  too  readily  identified  with  the  peculiar  condition  of  the 
nervous  apparatus  in  hysteria,”  then  the  idea  of  the  family 

1  Arch.f.  Psych.,  XXIII.,  p.  59. 

2  Cf.  here  Flournoy,  l.c.,  65. 

3  Arch.  f.  Psych.,  XXII.,  p.  737. 

4  Ibid.,  734. 

Bonamaison,  “  Un  cas  remarquable  d’Hypnose  spontan£e,”  etc. — Rev. 
de  V Hypnotisms,  Fev.  1890,  p.  234. 

G  Arch.  f.  Psych.,  XXII.,  737. 

7  Ibid. 

8  Ibid.,  XXIII.,  p.  59  ff. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  77 


heredity  of  this  disposition  in  our  case  becomes  not  a  little 
probable.  The  disease  is  much  complicated  by  these  attacks. 

So  far  we  have  seen  that  the  patient’s  consciousness  of 
her  ego  is  identical  in  all  the  states.  We  have  discussed 
two  secondary  complexes  of  consciousness  and  have  followed 
them  into  the  somnambulic  attack,  where  they  appear  as  the 
patient’s  vision,  whilst  she  had  lost  her  motor  activity  during 
the  attack.  During  the  next  attacks  she  was  impervious  to 
any  external  incidents,  but  on  the  other  hand  developed, 
within  the  twilight  state,  all  the  more  intense  activity,  in 
the  form  of  visions.  It  seems  that  many  secondary  series 
of  ideas  must  have  split  off  quite  early  from  the  primary 
unconscious  personality,  for  already,  after  the  first  two 
seances,  “  spirits  ”  appeared  by  the  dozen.  The  names  were 
inexhaustible  in  variety,  but  the  differences  between  the 
personalities  were  soon  exhausted  and  it  became  apparent 
that  they  could  all  be  subsumed  under  two  types,  the  serio- 
religious  type  and  the  gay-hilarious.  So  far  it  was  really 
only  a  matter  of  two  different  unconscious  personalities ,  which 
appeared  under  different  names  but  had  no  essential  differ¬ 
ences.  The  older  type,  the  grandfather,  who  had  initiated  the 
automatisms,  also  first  began  to  make  use  of  the  twilight 
state.  I  am  not  able  to  remember  any  suggestion  which 
might  have  given  rise  to  the  automatic  speaking.  According 
to  the  preceding  view,  the  attack  in  such  circumstances 
might  be  regarded  as  a  partial  auto-hypnosis.  The  ego-con¬ 
sciousness  which  remains  and,  as  a  result  of  its  isolation 
from  the  external  world,  occupies  itself  entirely  with  its 
hallucinations,  is  what  is  left  over  of  the  waking  conscious¬ 
ness.  Thus  the  automatism  has  a  wide  field  for  its  activity. 
The  independence  of  the  individual  central  spheres  which  we 
have  proved  at  the  beginning  to  be  present  in  the  patient, 
makes  the  automatic  act  of  speaking  appear  intelligible. 
Just  as  the  dreamer  on  occasion  speaks  in  his  sleep,  so,  too, 
a  man  in  his  waking  hours  may  accompany  intensive  thought 
with  an  unconscious  whisper.1  The  peculiar  movements  of 

1  Cf.  Lehman’s  investigations  of  involuntary  whispering,  “  Aberglaube 
und  Zauberei,”  1898,  p.  385  ff. 


78 


ANALYTICAL  PSCYHOLOGY 


th©  speech-musculature  are  to  be  noted.  They  have  also 
been  observed  in  other  somnambulists.1 

These  clumsy  attempts  must  be  directly  paralleled  with 
the  unintelligent  and  clumsy  movements  of  the  table  or  glass, 
and  most  probably  correspond  to  the  'preliminary  activity  of 
the  motor  portion  of  the  presentation;  that  is  to  say,  a 
stimulus  limited  to  the  motor-centre  which  has  not  previously 
been  subordinated  to  any  higher  system.  Whether  the  like 
occurs  in  persons  who  talk  in  their  dreams,  I  do  not  know. 
But  it  has  been  observed  in  hypnotised  persons.2 

Since  the  convenient  medium  of  speech  was  used  as  the 
means  of  communication,  the  study  of  the  subconscious 
personalities  was  considerably  lightened.  Their  intellectual 
compass  is  a  relatively  mediocre  one.  Their  knowledge 
is  greater  than  that  of  the  waking  patient,  including  also 
a  few  occasional  details,  such  as  the  birthdays  of  dead 
strangers  and  the  like.  The  source  of  these  is  more  or 
less  obscure,  since  the  patient  does  not  know  whence  in  the 
ordinary  way  she  could  have  procured  the  knowledge  of 
these  facts.  These  are  cases  of  so-called  cryptomnesia,  which 
are  too  unimportant  to  deserve  more  extended  notice. 
The  intelligence  of  the  two  subconscious  persons  is  very 
slight ;  they  produce  banalities  almost  exclusively,  but  their 
relation  to  the  conscious  ego  of  the  patient  when  in  the 
somnambulic  state  is  interesting.  They  are  invariably 
aware  ol  everything  that  takes  place  during  ecstasy  and 
occasionally  they  render  an  exact  report  from  minute  to  ' 
minute.3 

The  subconscious  persons  only  know  the  patient’s  phan- 
tastic  changes  of  thought  very  superficially;  they  do  not 

\  Thus  Flournoy  writes,  “  Dans  un  premier  essai  Leopold  (H.  S.’s  control- 
spirit)  ne  r6ussit  qu’a  donner  ses  intimations  et  sa  prononciation  a  Helen : 
apres  une  seance  oil  elle  avait  vivement  souflert  dans  la  bouche  et  le  cou 
comme  si  on  lui  travaillait  ou  lui  enlevait  les  organes  vocaux,  elle  se  mit 
a  causer  tr6s  naturellement.” 

2  Loewenfeld,  Arch.  f.  Psych.,  XXIII.,  60. 

3  This  behaviour  recalls  Flournoy’s  observations:  “Whilst  H.  S.  as  a 
somnambule  speaks  as  Marie  Antoinette,  the  arms  of  H.  S.  do  not  belong 
to  the  somnambulic  personality,  but  to  the  automatism  Leopold,  who  con¬ 
verses  by  gestures  with  the  observer”  (Flournoy,  l.c.,  p.  125). 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  79 


understand  these  and  cannot  answer  a  single  question  con¬ 
cerning  the  situation.  Their  stereotyped  reference  to  Ivenes 
is  :  “  Ask  Ivenes.”  This  observation  reveals  a  dualism  in  the 
character  of  the  subconscious  personalities  difficult  to  explain  ; 
for  the  grandfather,  who  gives  information  by  automatic  speech, 
also  appears  to  Ivenes  and,  according  to  her  account,  teaches  her 
about  the  objects  in  question.  How  is  it  that,  when  the  grand¬ 
father  speaks  through  the  patient’s  mouth,  he  knows  nothing 
of  the  very  things  which  he  himself  teaches  her  in  the  ecstasies? 

We  must  again  return  to  the  discussion  of  the  first 
appearance  of  the  hallucinations.  We  then  picture  the 
vision  as  an  irruption  of  hypnosis  into  the  visual  sphere. 
That  irruption  does  not  lead  to  a  “  normal  ”  hypnosis,  but  to 
a  “  hystero-hypnosis,”  that  is,  the  simple  hypnosis  is  com¬ 
plicated  by  a  hysterical  attack. 

It  is  not  a  rare  occurrence  in  the  domain  of  hypnotism 
for  normal  hypnosis  to  be  disturbed,  or,  rather,  to  be  replaced 
by  the  unexpected  appearance  of  hysterical  somnambulism ; 
the  hypnotist  in  many  cases  then  loses  rapport  with  the 
patient.  In  our  case  the  automatism  arising  in  the  motor 
area  plays  the  part  of  hypnotist ;  the  suggestions  proceeding 
from  it  (called  objective  auto-suggestions)  hypnotise  the 
neighbouring  areas  in  which  a  certain  susceptibility  has 
arisen.  At  the  moment  when  the  hypnotism  flows  over 
into  the  visual  sphere,  the  hysterical  attack  occurs  which,  as 
remarked,  effects  a  very  deep-reaching  change  in  a  large 
portion  of  the  psychical  region.  We  must  now  suppose  that 
the  automatism  stands  in  the  same  relationship  to  the  attack 
as  the  hypnotist  to  a  pathological  hypnosis  ;  its  influence  upon 
the  further  structure  of  the  situation  is  lost;  The  hallucina¬ 
tory  appearance  of  the  hypnotised  personality,  or,  rather,  of 
the  suggested  idea,  may  be  regarded  as  the  last  effect  upon 
the  somnambulic  personality.  Thenceforward  the  hypnotist 
becomes  only  a  figure  with  whom  the  somnambulic  per¬ 
sonality  occupies  itself  independently :  he  can  only  state 
what  is  going  on  and  is  no  longer  the  conditio  sine  qua  non 
of  the  content  of  the  somnambulic  attack.  The  independent 
ego-complex  of  the  attack,  in  our  case  Ivenes,  has  now  the 


80 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


upper  hand.  She  groups  her  own  mental  products  around 
the  personality  of  the  hypnotiser,  that  is,  of  the  grandfather, 
now  degraded  to  a  mere  image.  In  this  way  we  are  enabled 
to  understand  the  dualism  in  the  character  of  the  grand¬ 
father.  The  grandfather  I.ivho  speaks  directly  to  those  present, 
is  a  totally  different  person  and  a  mere  spectator  of  his  double , 
grandfather  II.,  who  appears  as  Irenes  teacher.  Grandfather  I. 
maintains  energetically  that  both  are  one  and  the  same 
person,  and  that  I.  has  all  the  knowledge  which  II.  possesses, 
and  is  only  prevented  from  giving  information  by  the 
difficulties  of  speech.  (The  dissociation  was  of  course  not 
realized  by  the  patient,  who  took  both  to  be  one  person.) 
Grandfather  I.,  if  closely  examined,  however,  is  not  altogether 
wrong,  judging  from  one  fact  which  seems  to  make  for  the 
identity  of  I.  and  II.,  viz.  that  they  are  never  both  present 
together.  When  I.  speaks  automatically  II.  is  not  present ; 
Ivenes  remarks  on  his  absence.  Similarly,  during  the  ecstasy, 
when  she  is  with  II.,  she  cannot  say  where  I.  is,  or  she  may 
learn  only  on  returning  from  an  imaginary  journey  that 
meanwhile  I.  has  been  guarding  her  body.  Conversely  I. 
never  says  that  he  is  going  on  a  journey  with  Ivenes  and 
never  explains  anything  to  her.  This  behaviour  should  be 
noted,  for,  if  I.  is  really  separate  from  II.,  there  seems  no 
reason  why  he  should  not  speak  automatically  at  the  same 
time  that  II.  appears,  and  also  [no  reason  why  he  should 
not]  be  present  with  II.  in  the  ecstasy.  Although  this  might 
have  been  supposed  possible,  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  was  never 
observed.  How  is  this  dilemma  to  be  resolved  ?  At  all 
events  there  exists  an  identity  of  I.  and  II.,  but  it  does  not 
lie  in  the  region  of  the  personality  under  discussion ;  it  lies 
in  the  basis  common  to  both ;  that  is,  in  the  personality  of 
the  patient  which  in  deepest  essence  is  one  and  indivisible. 
Here  we  come  across  the  characteristic  of  all  hysterical  dis¬ 
sociations  of  consciousness.  They  are  disturbances  which  only 
belong  to  the  superficial ,  and  none  reaches  so  deep  as  to  attack 
the  strong-knit  foundation  of  the  ego-complex. 

In  many  such  cases  we  find  the  bridge  which,  although 
often  well-concealed,  spans  the  apparently  impassable  abyss. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  81 

For  instance,  one  of  four  cards  is  made  invisible  to  a  hypno¬ 
tised  person  by  suggestion;  he  thereupon  names  the  other 
three.  A  pencil  is  placed  in  his  hand  with  the  instruction 
to  write  down  all  the  cards  lying  there ;  he  correctly  adds 
the  fourth  one.1 

In  the  aura  of  his  hystero-epileptic  attacks  a  patient  of 
Janet  s 2  invariably  had  a  vision  of  a  conflagration,  and 
whenever  he  saw  an  open  fire  he  had  an  attack ;  indeed, 
the  sight  of  a  lighted  match  was  sufficient  to  bring  about  an 
attack.  The  patient’s  visual  field  on  the  left  side  was  limited 
to  30°,  the  right  eye  was  shut.  The  left  eye  was  fixed  in  the 
middle  of  a  perimeter  whilst  a  lighted  match  was  held  at  80°. 
The  hystero-epileptic  attack  took  place  immediately.  Despite 
the  extensive  amnesia  in  many  cases  of  double  consciousness, 
the  patients’  behaviour  does  not  correspond  to  the  degree  of 
their  ignorance,  but  it  seems  rather  as  if  a  deeper  instinct 
guided  their  actions  in  accordance  with  their  former  know¬ 
ledge.  Not  only  this  relatively  slight  amnesic  dissociation, 
but  the  severe  amnesia  of  the  epileptic  twilight-state,  formerly 
regarded  as  irreparabile  damnum ,  does  not  suffice  to  cut  the 
inmost  threads  which  bind  the  ego-complex  in  the  twilight- 
state  to  the  normal  ego.  In  one  case  the  content  of  the 
twilight-state  could  be  grafted  on  to  the  waking  ego-complex.3 

Making  use  of  these  experiments  for  our  case,  we  obtain 
the  helpful  hypothesis  that  the  layers  of  the  unconscious 
beyond  reach  of  the  dissociation  endeavour  to  present  the 
unity  of  automatic  personality.  This  endeavour  is  shattered 
in  the  deeper-seated  and  more  elemental  disturbance  of  the 
hysterical  attack,4  which  prevents  a  more  complete  synthesis 
by  the  tacking  on  of  associations  which  are  to  a  certain 
extent  the  most  original  individual  property  of  supraliminal 
personality.  As  the  Ivenes  dream  emerged  it  was  fitted  on  to 
the  figures  accidentally  in  the  field  of  vision,  and  henceforth 
remains  associated  icith  them . 

1  Dessoir>  “  Das  Doppel-Ich,”  II.  Aufl.,  1896,  p.  29. 

-  Janet,  “  L’anesth<§sie  hyst6rique,”  Arch.  d'Neur .,  69,  1892. 

3  Graeter,  Zeit.  f.  Hypnotismus,  VIII.,  p.  129. 

4  The  hysterical  attack  is  not  a  purely  psychical  process.  By  the  psychic 
processes  only  a  pre-formed  mechanism  is  set  free,  which  has  nothing  to  do 
with  psychic  processes  in  and  for  itself  (Karplus,  Jahr.  f.  Psych.,  XVII.). 

6 


82 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


Relationship  to  the  Unconscious  Personality. 

As  we  have  seen,  the  numerous  personalities  become 
grouped  round  two  types,  the  grandfather  and  Ulrich  von 
Gerbenstein.  The  first  produces  exclusively  sanctimonious 
religiosity  and  gives  edifying  moral  precepts.  The  latter  is, 
in  one  word,  a  “  flapper  ”  in  whom  there  is  nothing  male 
except  the  name.  We  must  here  add  from  the  anamnesis 
that  at  fifteen  the  patient  was  confirmed  by  a  very  bigoted 
clergyman,  and  at  home  she  is  occasionally  the  recipient  of 
sanctimonious  moral  talks.  The  grandfather  represents  this 
side  of  her  past,  Gerbenstein  the  other  half ;  hence  the  curious 
contrast.  Here  we  have  personified  the  chief  characters  of 
her  past.  On  the  one  hand  the  sanctimonious  person  with 
a  narrow  education,  on  the  other  the  boisterousness  of 
a  lively  girl  of  fifteen  who  often  overshot  the  mark.1  We 
find  both  traits  mixed  in  the  patient  in  sharp  contrast.  At 
times  she  is  anxious,  shy,  and  extremely  reserved ;  at  others 
boisterous  to  a  degree.  She  herself  perceives  these  contradic¬ 
tions  often  most  painfully.  This  circumstance  gives  us  the 
key  to  the  source  of  the  two  unconscious  personalities.  The 
patient  is  obviously  seeking  a  middle  path  between  the  two 
extremes ;  she  endeavours  to  repress  them  and  strains  after 
some  ideal  condition.  These  strainings  bring  her  to  the 
puberty  dream  of  the  ideal  Ivenes,  beside  whose  figure  the 
unacknowledged  trends  of  her  character  recede  into  the  back¬ 
ground.  They  are  not  lost,  however,  but  as  repressed  ideas, 
analogous  to  the  Ivenes  idea,  begin  an  independent  existence 
as  automatic  personalities. 

S.  W.’s  behaviour  recalls  vividly  Freud’s 2  investigations 
into  dreams  which  disclose  the  independent  growth  of  re¬ 
pressed  thoughts.  We  can  now  comprehend  why  the  halluci¬ 
natory  persons  are  separated  from  those  who  write  and  speak 

1  Carl  Hauptmann,  in  his  drama  “  Die  Bergschmiede,”  has  made  use  of 
the  objectivation  of  certain  linked  association-complexes.  In  this  play  the 
treasure-seeker  is  mot  on  a  gloomy  night  by  a  hallucination  of  his  entire  better 
self. 

2  Freud,  “  The  Interpretation  of  Dreams.”  See  also  Breuer  and  Freud’s 
“  Studies  on  Hysteria,”  1895. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  88 


automatically.  The  former  teach  Ivenes  the  secrets  of  the 
Other  Side,  they  relate  all  those  phantastic  tales  about  the 
extraordinariness  of  her  personality,  they  create  scenes  where 
Ivenes  can  appear  dramatically  with  the  attributes  of  power, 
wisdom  and  virtue.  These  are  nothing  but  dramatic  disso¬ 
ciations  of  her  dream-self.  The  latter,  the  automatic  persons, 
are  the  ones  to  be  overcome,  they  must  have  no  part  in 
Ivenes.  With  the  spirit-companions  of  Ivenes  they  have 
only  the  name  in  common.  A  priori  it  is  not  to  be  expected 
that  in  a  case  like  ours,  where  these  divisions  are  never 
clearly  defined,  that  two  such  characteristic  individualities 
should  disappear  entirely  from  a  somnambulic  ego-complex 
having  so  close  a  relation  with  the  waking  consciousness. 
And  in  fact,  we  do  meet  them  in  part  in  those  ecstatic 
penitential  scenes  and  in  part  in  the  romances  crammed 
with  more  or  less  banal  mischievous  gossip. 


Course. 

It  only  remains  to  say  a  few  words  about  the  course  of 
this  strange  affection.  The  process  reached  its  maximum  in 
four  to  eight  weeks.  The  descriptions  given  of  Ivenes  and 
of  the  unconscious  personalities  belong  generally  to  this 
period.  Thenceforth  a  gradual  decline  was  noticeable ;  the 
ecstasies  grew  meaningless,  and  the  influence  of  Gerbenstein 
became  more  powerful.  The  plasticity  of  the  phenomena 
became  increasingly  featureless ;  gradually  the  characters 
which  were  at  first  well  demarcated  became  inextricably 
mixed.  The  psychological  contribution  grew  smaller  and 
smaller  until  finally  the  whole  story  assumed  a  marked  effect 
of  fabrication.  Ivenes  herself  was  much  concerned  about 
this  decline ;  she  became  painfully  uncertain,  spoke  carefully, 
feeling  her  way,  and  allowed  her  character  to  appear  undis¬ 
guised.  The  somnambulic  attacks  decreased  in  frequency 
and  intensity.  All  degrees  from  somnambulism  to  conscious 
lying  were  observable.  Thus  the  curtain  fell.  The  patient 


84  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

has  since  gone  abroad.  We  should  not  underestimate  the  im¬ 
portance  of  the  fact  that  her  character  has  become  pleasanter 
and  more  stable.  Here  we  may  recall  the  cases  cited  in 
which  the  second  state  gradually  replaced  the  first  state. 

Perhaps  this  is  a  similar  phenomenon. . 

It  is  well  known  that  somnambulic  manifestations  are 
commenced  at  puberty.1  The  attacks  of  somnambulism  in 
Dyce’s  case2  began  immediately  before  puberty  and  lasted 
just  till  its  termination.  The  somnambulism  of  H.  Smith  is 

likewise  closely  connected  with  puberty.3 

Schroeder  von  der  Kalk’s  patient  was  16  years  old  at  the 
time  of  her  illness ;  Felida  14*,  etc.  We  know  also  that 
at  this  period  the  future  character  is  formed  and  fixed.  In 
the  case  of  Felida  and  of  Mary  Reynolds  we  saw  that  the 
character  in  state  II.  replaced  that  of  state  I.  It  is  not  there¬ 
fore  unthinkable  that  these  phenomena  of  double  consciousness 
are  nothing  but  character-formations  for  the  future  personality , 
or  their  attempts  to  burst  forth .  In  consequence  of  special 
difficulties  (unfavourable  external  conditions,  psychopathic 
disposition  of  the  nervous  system,  etc.),  these  new  formations , 
or  attempts  thereat,  become  bound  up  with  peculiar  disturbances 
of  consciousness.  Occasionally  the  somnambulism,  in  view  of 
the  difficulties  that  oppose  the  future  character,  takes  on  a 
marked  teleological  meaning,  for  it  gives  the  individual,  who 
might  otherwise  be  defeated,  the  means  of  victory.  Here  I 
am  thinking  first  of  all  of  Jeanne  d’Arc,  whose  extraordinary 
courage  recalls  the  deeds  of  Mary  Reynolds’  II.  This  is 
perhaps  the  place  to  point  out  the  similar  function  of  the 
“  hallucination  teleologique  ”  of  which  the  public  reads 
occasionally,  although  it  has  not  yet  been  submitted  to  a 

scientific  study. 

The  Unconscious  Additional  Creative  Work. 

We  have  now  discussed  all  the  essential  manifestations 
offered  by  our  case  which  are  of  significance  for  its  inner 

1  Pelman,  Allg.  Zeit.  f.  Psych.,  XXI.,  p.  74. 

2  Allg.  Zeit.  f.  Psych.,  XXII.,  p.  407. 

3  Flournoy,  l.c.,  p.  28. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  85 


structure.  Certain  accompanying  manifestations  may  be 
briefly  considered :  the  unconscious  additional  creative  work . 
Here  we  shall  encounter  a  not  altogether  unjustifiable 
scepticism  on  the  part  of  the  representative  of  science. 
Dessoir’s  conception  of  a  second  ego  met  with  much  op¬ 
position,  and  was  rejected  as  too  enthusiastic  in  many 
directions.  As  is  known,  occultism  has  proclaimed  a  pre¬ 
eminent  right  to  this  field  and  has  drawn  premature  con¬ 
clusions  from  doubtful  observations.  We  are  indeed  very  far 
from  being  in  a  position  to  state  anything  conclusive,  since 
we  have  at  present  only  most  inadequate  material.  Therefore 
if  we  touch  on  the  field  of  the  unconscious  additional  creative 
work,  it  is  only  that  we  may  do  justice  to  all  sides  of  our 
case.  By  unconscious  addition  we  understand  that  automatic 
process  whose  result  does  not  penetrate  to  the  conscious  psychic 
activity  of  the  individual.  To  this  region  above  all  belongs 
thought-reading  through  table  movements.  I  do  not  know 
whether  there  are  people  who  can  divine  a  whole  long  train 
of  thought  by  means  of  inductions  from  the  intentional 
tremulous  movements.  It  is,  however,  certain  that,  assuming 
this  to  be  possible,  such  persons  must  be  availing  themselves 
of  a  routine  achieved  after  endless  practice.  But  in  our 
case  long  practice  can  be  excluded  without  more  ado,  and 
there  is  nothing  left  but  to  accept  a  primary  susceptibility  of 
the  unconscious,  far  exceeding  that  of  the  conscious. 

This  supposition  is  supported  by  numerous  observations 
on  somnambulists.  I  will  mention  onlyBinet’s1  experiments, 
where  little  letters  or  some  such  thing,  or  little  complicated 
figures  in  relief  were  laid  on  the  anaesthetic  skin  of  the  back 
of  the  hand  or  the  neck,  and  the  unconscious  perceptions 
were  then  recorded  by  means  of  signs.  On  the  basis  of  these 
experiments  he  came  to  the  following  conclusion :  “  D’apres 
les  calculs  que  j’ai  pu  faire,  la  sensibilite  inconsciente  d’une 
hysterique  est  a  certains  moments  cinquante  fois  plus  fine  que 
celle  d’une  personne  normale.”  A  second  additional  creation 
coming  under  consideration  in  our  case  and  in  numerous 

Binet,  “Les  Alterations,”  p.  125.  Cf.  also  Loewenfeld’s  statements  on 
the  subject  in  “  Hypnotismus,”  1901. 


86  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

other  somnambulists,  is  that  condition  which  French  investi¬ 
gators  call  “  Cryptomnesia.”  1  By  this  term  is  meant  the 
becoming  conscious  of  a  memory-picture  which  cannot  be 
regarded  as  in  itself  primary,  but  at  most  is  secondary,  by 
means  of  subsequent  recalling  or  abstract  reasoning.  It  is 
characteristic  of  cryptomnesia  that  the  picture  which  emerges 
does  not  bear  the  obvious  mark  of  the  memory-picture,  is  not, 
that  is  to  say,  bound  up  with  the  idiosyncratic  super-conscious 
ego-complex. 

Three  ways  may  be  distinguished  in  which  the  crypto- 
mnesic  picture  is  brought  to  consciousness. 

1.  The  picture  enters  consciousness  without  any  intervention 
of  the  sense-spheres  ( intra-psychically ).  It  is  an  inrushing  idea 
whose  causal  sequence  is  hidden  within  the  individual.  In 
so  far  cryptomnesia  is  quite  an  everyday  occurrence,  con¬ 
cerned  with  the  deepest  normal  psychic  events.  How  often 
it  misleads  the  investigator,  the  author  or  the  composer 
into  believing  his  ideas  original,  whilst  the  critic  quite  well 
recognises  their  source !  Generally  the  individuality  of  the 
representation  protects  the  author  from  the  accusation  of 
plagiarism  and  proves  his  good  faith ;  still,  cases  do  occur 
of  unconscious  verbal  reproduction.  Should  the  passage  in 
question  contain  some  remarkable  idea,  the  accusation  of 
plagiarism,  more  or  less  conscious,  is  justified.  After  all 
a  valuable  idea  is  linked  by  numerous  associations  with  the 
ego-complex ;  at  different  times,  in  different  situations,  it  has 
already  been  meditated  upon  and  thus  leads  by  innumerable 
links  in  all  directions.  It  can  therefore  never  so  disappear 
from  consciousness  that  its  continuity  could  be  entirely  lost 
from  the  sphere  of  conscious  memory.  We  have,  however, 
a  criterion  by  which  we  can  always  recognise  objectively 
intra-psychic  cryptomnesia.  The  cryptomnesic  presentation 
is  linked  to  the  ego-complex  by  the  minimum  of  associations. 
The  reason  for  this  lies  in  the  relation  of  the  individual  to 
the  particular  object,  in  the  disproportion  of  interest  to 


1  Cryptomnesia  must  not  be  regarded  as  synonymous  with  Hypermncsia ; 
by  the  latter  term  is  meant  the  abnormal  quickening  of  the  power  of 
recollection  which  reproduces  the  memory-pictures  as  such. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  87 


object.  Two  possibilities  occur :  (1)  The  object  is  worthy 
of  interest  but  the  interest  is  slight  in  consequence  of  dis¬ 
persion  or  want  of  understanding;  (2)  The  object  is  not 
worthy  of  interest,  consequently  the  interest  is  slight.  In 
both  cases  an  extremely  labile  connection  with  consciousness 
arises  which  leads  to  a  rapid  forgetting.  The  slight  bridge 
is  soon  destroyed  and  the  acquired  presentation  sinks  into 
the  unconscious,  where  it  is  no  longer  accessible  to  con¬ 
sciousness.  Should  it  enter  consciousness  by  means  of 
cryptomnesia,  the  feeling  of  strangeness,  of  its  being  an 
original  creation,  will  cling  to  it  because  the  path  by  which 
it  entered  the  sub-conscious  has  become  undiscoverable. 
Strangeness  and  original  creation  are,  moreover,  closely 
allied  to  one  another  if  one  recalls  the  numerous  witnesses 
in  belles-lettres  to  the  nature  of  genius  (“  possession  ”  by 
genius).1 

Apart  from  certain  striking  cases  of  this  kind,  where  it 
is  doubtful  whether  it  is  a  cryptomnesia  or  an  original 
creation,  there  are  some  cases  in  which  a  passage  of  no 
essential  content  is  reproduced,  and  that  almost  verbally, 
as  in  the  following  example  : — 


About  that  time  when 
Zarathustra  lived  on  the 
blissful  islands,  it  came  to 
pass  that  a  ship  cast  anchor 
at  that  island  on  which  the 
smoking  mountain  standeth ; 
and  the  sailors  of  that  ship 
went  ashore  in  order  to  shoot 


An  extract  of  awe-inspiring 
import  from  the  log  of  the 
ship  4 ‘Sphinx”  in  the  year 
1686,  in  the  Mediterranean. 

Just.  Kerner,  “Blatter 
aus  Prevorst,”  vol.  IV.,  p.  57. 

The  four  captains  and  a 
merchant,  Mr.  Bell,  went 


1  “  Has  any  one  at  the  end  of  the  nineteenth  century  any  clear  conception 
of  what  the  poets  in  vigorous  ages  called  inspiration  ?  If  not,  I  will  describe 
it.  The  slight  remnant  of  superstition  by  itself  would  scarcely  have  sufficed 
to  reject  the  idea  of  being  merely  incarnation,  merely  mouthpiece,  merely 
the  medium  of  superior  forces.  The  concept  revelation  in  the  sense  that 
quite  suddenly,  with  ineffable  certainty  and  delicacy,  something  is  seen, 
something  is  heard,  something  convulsing  and  breaking  into  one’s  inmost 
self,  does  but  describe  the  fact.  You  hear — you  do  not  seek ;  you  accept — 
asking  not  who  is  the  giver.  Like  lightning,  flashes  the  thought,  compelling, 
without  hesitation  as  to  form — I  have  had  no  choice  ”  (Nietzsche’s  “Works,” 
vol.  HI.,  p.  482). 


88 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


rabbits  !  But  about  the  hour 
of  noon,  when  the  captain 
and  his  men  had  mustered 
again,  they  suddenly  saw  a 
man  come  through  the  air 
unto  them,  and  a  voice  said 
distinctly  :  “  It  is  time  !  It 
is  high  time !  ”  But  when 
that  person  was  nighest  unto 
them  (he  passed  by  them 
flying  quickly  like  a  shadow, 
in  the  direction  in  which  the 
volcano  was  situated)  they 
recognised  with  the  greatest 
confusion  that  it  was  Zara- 
thustra.  For  all  of  them, 
except  the  captain,  had  seen 
him  before,  and  they  loved 
him,  as  the  folk  love,  blend¬ 
ing  love  and  awe  in  equal 
parts.  “Lo!  there,”  said 
the  old  steersman,  “Zara- 
thustra  goeth  unto  hell !  ” 


ashore  on  the  island  of  Mount 
Stromboli  to  shoot  rabbits. 
At  three  o’clock  they  called  the 
crew  together  to  go  aboard, 
when,  to  their  inexpressible 
astonishment,  they  saw  two 
men  flying  rapidly  over  them 
through  the  air.  One  was 
dressed  in  black,  the  other 
in  grey.  They  approached 
them  very  closely,  in  the 
greatest  haste ;  to  their 
greatest  dismay  they  de¬ 
scended  amid  the  burning 
flames  into  the  crater  of 
the  terrible  volcano,  Mount 
Stromboli.  They  recognised 
the  pair  as  acquaintances 
from  London. 


As  Frau  E.  Forster-Nietzsche,  the  poet’s  sister,  told  me, 
in  reply  to  my  inquiry,  Nietzsche  took  up  Just.  Kerner 
between  the  age  of  twelve  and  fifteen,  when  stopping  with 
his  grandfather,  Pastor  Oehler,  in  Pobler,  but  certainly  never 
afterwards.  It  could  never  have  been  the  poet’s  intention  to 
commit  a  plagiarism  from  a  ship’s  log ;  if  this  had  been  the 
case,  he  would  certainly  have  omitted  the  very  prosaic  “  to 
shoot  rabbits,”  which  was,  moreover,  quite  unessential  to  the 
situation.  In  the  poetical  sketch  of  Zarathustra’s  journey 
into  Hell  there  was  obviously  interpolated,  half  or  wholly 
unconsciously,  that  forgotten  impression  from  his  youth. 

This  is  an  instance  which  shows  all  the  peculiarities  of 
cryptomnesia.  A  quite  unessential  detail,  which  deserves 
nothing  but  speedy  forgetting,  is  reproduced  with  almost 
verbal  fidelity,  whilst  the  chief  part  of  the  narrative  is,  one 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  89 


cannot  say  altered,  but  recreated  quite  distinctively.  To  the 
distinctive  core,  the  idea  of  the  journey  to  Hell,  there  is 
added  a  detail,  the  old,  forgotten  impression  of  a  similar 
situation.  The  original  is  so  absurd  that  the  youth,  who 
read  everything,  probably  skipped  through  it,  and  certainly 
had  no  deep  interest  in  it.  Here  we  get  the  required  minimum 
of  associated  links,  for  we  cannot  easily  conceive  a  greater 
jump,  than  from  that  old,  absurd  story  to  Nietzsche’s  con¬ 
sciousness  in  the  year  1888.  If  we  picture  to  ourselves 
Nietzsche’s  mood  at  the  time  when  “  Zarathustra  ”  was  com¬ 
posed,1  and  think  of  the  ecstasy  that  at  more  than  one 
point  approached  the  pathological,  we  shall  comprehend  the 
abnormal  reminiscence.  The  second  of  the  two  possibilities 
mentioned,  the  acceptance  of  some  object,  not  itself  un¬ 
interesting,  in  a  state  of  dispersion  or  half  interest  from  lack 
of  understanding,  and  its  cryptomnesic  reproduction  we  find 
chiefly  in  somnambulists ;  it  is  also  found  in  the  literary 
chronicles  dealing  with  dying  celebrities.2 

Amid  the  exhaustive  selection  of  these  phenomena  we  are 
chiefly  concerned  with  Talking  in  a  foreign  tongue ,  the  so- 
called  glossolalia.  This  phenomenon  is  mentioned  everywhere 
when  it  is  a  question  of  similar  ecstatic  conditions.  In  the 
New  Testament,  in  the  Acta  Sanctorum ,3  in  the  Witchcraft 
Trials,  more  recently  in  the  Prophetess  of  Prevorst,  in  Judge 
Edmond’s  daughter  Laura,  in  Flournoy’s  Helen  Smith.  The 
last  is  unique  from  the  point  of  view  of  investigation  ;  it  is 
found  also  in  Bresler’s4  case,  which  is  probably  identical 


1  “  There  is  an  ecstasy  so  great  that  the  immense  strain  of  it  is  sometimes 
relaxed  by  a  flood  of  tears,  during  which  one’s  steps  now  involuntarily  rush, 
and  anon  involuntarily  lag.  There  is  the  feeling  that  one  is  utterly  out  of 
hand,  with  the  very  distinct  consciousness  of  an  endless  number  of  fine  thrills 
and  titillations  descending  to  one’s  very  toes  ; — there  is  a  depth  of  happiness 
in  which  the  most  painful  and  gloomy  parts  do  not  act  as  antitheses  to  the 
rest,  but  are  produced  and  required  as  necessary  shades  of  colour  in  such  an 
overflow  of  light  ”  (Nietzsche,  “  Ecce  Homo,”  vol.  XVII.  of  English  transla¬ 
tion,  by  A.  M.  Ludovici,  p.  103). 

2  Eckermann,  “  Conversations  with  Goethe,”  vol.  III. 

3  Cf.  Goerres,  “Die  christliche  Mystik.” 

4  Bresler,  “  Kulturhistorischer  Beitrag  zur  Hysterie,”  Allg.  Zeits.  f. 
Psych.,  LIII.,  p.  333. 


90 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


witli  Blumhardt’s 1  Gottlieben  Dittus.  As  Flournoy  shows, 
glossolalia  is,  so  far  as  it  really  is  independent  speech,  a 
cryptomnesic  phenomenon,  K ar  e^o\rjv.  The  reader  should 
consult  Flournoy’s  most  interesting  exposition. 

In  our  case  glossolalia  was  only  once  observed,  when  the 
only  understandable  words  were  the  scattered  variations  on 
the  word  “  vena.”  The  source  of  this  word  is  clear.  A  few 
days  previously  the  patient  had  dipped  into  an  anatomical 
atlas  for  the  study  of  the  veins  of  the  face,  which  were  given 
in  Latin.  She  had  used  the  word  “vena”  in  her  dreams, 
as  happens  occasionally  to  normal  persons.  The  remaining 
words  and  sentences  in  a  foreign  language  betray,  at  the 
first  glance,  their  derivation  from  French,  in  which  the 
patient  was  somewhat  fluent.  Unfortunately  I  am  without 
the  more  accurate  translations  of  the  various  sentences, 
because  the  patient  would  not  give  them ;  but  we  may  hold 
that  it  was  a  phenomenon  similar  to  Helen  Smith’s  Martian 
language.  Flournoy  found  that  the  Martian  language  was 
nothing  but  a  childish  translation  from  French;  the  words 
were  changed  but  the  syntax  remained  the  same.  Even  more 
probable  is  the  view  that  the  patient  simply  ranged  next  to 
each  other  meaningless  words  that  rang  strangely,  without 
any  true  word  formation ; 2  she  borrowed  certain  characteristic 
sounds  from  French  and  Italian  and  combined  them  into  a 
kind  of  language,  just  as  Helen  Smith  completed  the  lacuna 
in  the  real  Sanscrit  words  by  products  of  her  own  resembling 
that  language.  The  curious  names  of  the  mystical  system 
can  be  reduced,  for  the  most  part,  to  known  roots.  The 
writer  vividly  recalls  the  botanical  schemes  found  in  every 
school  atlas ;  the  internal  resemblance  of  the  relationship  of 
the  planets  to  the  sun  is  also  pretty  clear ;  we  shall  not  be 
going  astray  if  we  see  in  the  names  reminiscences  from 
popular  astronomy.  Thus  can  be  explained  the  names 

1  Ziindel,  “  Biographie  Blumhardt’s.” 

2  “  Le  baragouin  rapide  et  confus  dont  on  ne  peut  jamais  obtenir  la 
signification,  probablement  parce  qu’il  n’en  a  en  effet  aucune,  n’est  qu’un 
psendo-langage  (p.  193)  analogue  au  baragouinage  par  lequel  les  enfants 
se  donnent  parfois  dans  leurs  jeux  Pillusion  qu’ils  parlent  cbinois,  indien  ou 
‘ sauvage ’  ”  (p.  152,  Flournoy,  l.c.). 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  91 


Persus,  Fenus,  Nenus,  Sirum,  Surus,  Fixus,  and  Pix,  as  the 
childlike  distortions  of  Perseus,  Venus,  Sirius  and  Fixed  Star, 
analogous  to  the  Vena  variations.  Magnesor  vividly  recalls 
Magnetism,  whose  mystic  significance  the  patient  knew  from 
the  Prophetess  of  Prevorst.  In  Connesor,  the  contrary  to 
Magnesor,  the  prefix  “con” is  probably  the  French  “  contre.” 
Hypnos  and  Hyfonismus  recall  hypnosis  and  hypnotism 
(German  hypnotismus ),  about  which  there  are  the  most  super¬ 
stitious  ideas  circulating  in  lay  circles.  The  most  used 
suffixes  in  “  us  ”  and  “  os  ”  are  the  signs  by  which  as  a  rule 
people  decide  the  difference  between  Latin  and  Greek.  The 
other  names  probably  spring  from  similar  accidents  to  which 
we  have  no  clues.  The  rudimentary  glossolalia  of  our  case  has 
not  any  title  to  be  a  classical  instance  of  cryptomnesia,  for  it 
only  consisted  in  the  unconscious  use  of  various  impressions, 
partly  optical,  party  acoustic,  and  all  very  close  at  hand. 

2.  The  cryptomnesic  image  arrives  at  consciousness  through 
the  senses  (as  a  hallucination).  Helen  Smith  is  the  classic 
example  of  this  kind.  I  refer  to  the  case  mentioned  on  the 
date  “  18  Mars.”  1 

8.  The  image  arrives  at  consciousness  by  motor  automatism. 

H.  Smith  had  lost  her  valuable  brooch,  which  she  was 
anxiously  looking  for  everywhere.  Ten  days  later  her  guide 
Leopold  informed  her  by  means  of  the  table  where  the  brooch 
was.  Thus  informed,  she  found  it  at  night-time  in  the  open 
field,  covered  by  sand.2  Strictly  speaking,  in  cryptomnesia 
there  is  not  any  additional  creation  in  the  true  sense  of  the 
word,  since  the  conscious  memory  experiences  no  increase  of 
its  function,  but  only  an  enrichment  of  its  content.  By  the 
automatism  certain  regions  are  merely  made  accessible  to 
consciousness  in  an  indirect  way,  which  were  formerly  sealed 
against  it.  But  the  unconscious  does  not  thereby  accomplish 
any  creation  which  exceeds  the  capacity  of  consciousness 
qualitatively  or  quantitatively.  Cryptomnesia  is  only  an 
apparent  additional  creation,  in  contrast  to  hypermnesia, 
which  actually  represents  an  increase  of  function.3 

1  See  p.  63.  2  Flournoy,  Z.c.,  p.  378. 

3  For  a  case  of  this  kind  see  Krafft  Ebing,  “Lehrbuch,”  4th  edition,  p.  578. 


92 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


We  have  spoken  above  of  a  receptivity  of  the  unconscious 
greater  than  that  of  the  consciousness,  chiefly  in  regard 
to  the  simple  attempts  at  thought-reading  of  numbers. 
As  mentioned,  not  only  our  somnambulist  but  a  relatively 
large  number  of  normal  persons  are  able  to  guess  from  the 
tremors  lengthy  thought-sequences,  if  they  are  not  too  com¬ 
plicated.  These  experiments  are,  so  to  speak,  the  prototype 
of  those  rarer  and  incomparably  more  astonishing  cases  of 
intuitive  knowledge  displayed  at  times  by  somnambulists.1 
Zschokke2  in  his  “  Introspection  ”  has  shown  us  that  these 
phenomena  do  not  belong  only  to  the  domain  of  somnambulism, 
but  occur  among  non-somnambulic  persons.  The  formation 
of  such  knowledge  seems  to  be  arrived  at  in  various  ways : 
first  and  foremost  there  is  the  fineness,  already  noted,  of 
unconscious  perceptions ;  then  must  be  emphasised  the 
importance  of  the  enormous  suggestibility  of  somnambulists. 
The  somnambulist  not  only  incorporates  every  suggestive  idea  to 
some  extent ,  but  actually  lives  in  the  suggestion ,  in  the  person 
of  his  doctor  or  observer ,  with  that  abandonment  characteristic  of 
the  suggestible  hysteric.  The  relation  of  Frau  Hauffe  to  Kernel’ 
is  a  striking  example  of  this.  That  in  such  cases  there  is  a 
high  degree  of  association-concordance  can  cause  no  astonish¬ 
ment  ;  a  condition  which  Richet  might  have  taken  more 
account  of  in  his  experiments  in  thought-transference. 
Finally  there  are  cases  of  somnambulic  additional  creative 
work  which  are  not  to  be  explained  solely  by  hyperaesthesia 
of  the  unconscious  activity  of  the  senses  and  association- 
concordance,  but  presuppose  a  highly  developed  intellectual 
activity  of  the  unconscious.  The  deciphering  of  the  pur¬ 
posive  tremors  demand  an  extreme  sensitiveness  and  delicacy 
of  feeling,  both  psychological  and  physiological,  to  combine 
the  individual  perceptions  into  a  complete  unity  of  thought, 
if  it  is  at  all  permissible  to  make  an  analogy  between  the 
processes  of  cognition  in  the  realm  of  the  unconscious 

1  The  limitation  of  the  associative  processes  and  the  concentration  of 
attention  upon  a  definite  sphere  of  presentation  can  also  lead  to  the  develop¬ 
ment  of  new  ideas,  which  no  effort  of  will  in  the  waking  state  would  have 
been  able  to  accomplish  (Loewenfeld,  “  Hypnotismus,”  p.  289). 

2  Zschokke,  “  Eine  Selbstschau,”  III.,  Aufl.  Aarau,  1843,  p.  227  ff. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  OCCULT  PHENOMENA  98 

and  the  conscious.  The  possibility  must  always  be  con¬ 
sidered  that  in  the  unconscious ,  feeling  and  concept  are  not 
clearly  separated ,  perhaps  even  are  one.  The  intellectual 
elevation  which  many  somnambulists  display  in  ecstasy,  is 
certainly  a  rare  thing,  but  none  the  less  one  that  has  some¬ 
times  been  observed.1  I  would  designate  the  scheme  com¬ 
posed  by  our  patient  as  just  one  of  those  pieces  of  cieative 
work  that  exceed  the  normal  intelligence.  We  have  already 
seen  whence  one  portion  of  this  scheme  probably  came.  A 
second  source  is  no  doubt  the  life-crisis  of  Frau  Hauffe, 
portrayed  in  Kerner’s  book.  The  external  form  seems  to  be 
determined  by  these  adventitious  facts.  As  already  observed 
in  the  presentation  of  the  case,  the  idea  of  dualism  arises 
from  the  conversations  picked  up  piecemeal  by  the  patient 
during  those  dreamy  states  occurring  after  her  ecstasies. 
This  exhausts  my  knowledge  of  the  sources  of  S.  W.’s 
creations.  Whence  arose  the  root-idea  the  patient  is  unable 
to  say.  I  naturally  examined  occultistic  literature  pertinent 
to  the  subject,  and  discovered  a  store  of  parallels  from  different 
centuries  with  our  gnostic  system,  but  scattered  through  all 
kinds  of  work  mostly  quite  inaccessible  to  the  patient.  More¬ 
over,  at  her  youthful  age,  and  with  her  surroundings,  the 
possibility  of  any  such  study  is  quite  excluded.  A  brief 
survey  of  the  system  in  the  light  of  her  own  explanations 
shows  how  much  intelligence  was  used  in  its  construction. 
How  highly  the  intellectual  work  is  to  be  estimated  is  a 
matter  of  opinion.  In  any  case,  considering  her  youth,  her 
mentality  must  be  regarded  as  most  extraordinary. 

1  Gilles  de  la  Tourette  says,  “We  have  seen  somnambulic  girls,  poor, 
uneducated,  quite  stupid  in  the  waking  state,  whose  whole  appearance  altered 
so  soon  as  they  were  sent  to  sleep.  Whilst  previously  they  were  boring,  now 
they  are  lively,  alert,  sometimes  even  witty  ”  (Cf.  Loewenfeld,  l.c .,  p.  132). 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD1 
Lecture  I 

When  you  honoured  me  with  an  invitation  to  lecture  at  Clark 
University,  a  wish  was  expressed  that  I  should  speak  about 
my  methods  of  work,  and  especially  about  the  psychology  of 
childhood.  I  hope  to  accomplish  this  task  in  the  following 
manner  : — 

In  my  first  lecture  I  will  give  to  you  the  view  points 
of  my  association  methods ;  in  my  second  I  will  discuss  the 
significance  of  the  familiar  constellations ;  while  in  my  third 
lecture  I  shall  enter  more  fully  into  the  psychology  of  the 
child. 

I  might  confine  myself  exclusively  to  my  theoretical  views, 
but  I  believe  it  will  be  better  to  illustrate  my  lectures  with 
as  many  practical  examples  as  possible.  We  will  therefore 
occupy  ourselves  first  with  the  association  test  which  has 
been  of  great  value  to  me  both  practically  and  theoretically. 
The  history  of  the  association  method  inyogue  in  psychology, 
as  well  as  the  method  itself,  is,  of  course,  so  familiar  to 
you  that  there  is  no  need  to  enlarge  upon  it.  For  practical 
purposes  I  make  use  of  the  following  formula : — 


1.  head 

8.  to  pay 

15.  to  dance 

2.  green 

9.  window 

16.  village 

3.  water 

10.  friendly 

17.  lake 

4.  to  sing 

11.  to  cook 

18.  sick 

5.  dead 

12.  to  ask 

19.  pride 

6.  long 

13.  cold 

20.  to  cook 

7.  ship 

14.  stem 

21.  ink 

Lectures  delivered  at  the  celebration  of  the  twentieth  anniversary  of  the 
opening  of  Clark  University,  September,  1909 ;  translated  from  the  German 
by  Dr.  A.  A.  Brill,  of  New  York.  Reprinted  by  kind  permission  of  Dr. 
Stanley  Hall. 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


95 


22.  angry 

23.  needle 

24.  to  swim 

25.  voyage 

26.  blue 

27.  lamp 

28.  to  sin 

29.  bread 

30.  rich 

31.  tree 

32.  to  prick 

33.  pity 

34.  yellow 

35.  mountain 

36.  to  die 

37.  salt 

38.  new 

39.  custom 

40.  to  pray 

41.  money 

42.  foolish 

43.  pamphlet 

44.  despise 

45.  finger 

46.  expensive 

47.  bird 

48.  to  fall 


49.  book 

50.  unjust 

51.  frog 

52.  to  part 

53.  hunger 

54.  white 

55.  child 

56.  to  take  care 

57.  lead  pencil 

58.  sad 

59.  plum 

60.  to  marry 

61.  house 

62.  dear 

63.  glass 

64.  to  quarrel 

65.  fur 

66.  big 

67.  carrot 

68.  to  paint 

69.  part 

70.  old 

71.  flower 

72.  to  beat 

73.  box 

74.  wild 

75.  family 


76.  to  wash 

77.  cow 

78.  friend 

79.  luck 

80.  lie 

81.  deportment 

82.  narrow 

83.  brother 

84.  to  fear 

85.  stork 

86.  false  „ 

87.  anxiety  • 

88.  to  kiss 

89.  bride 

90.  pure 

91.  door 

92.  to  choose 

93.  hay 

94.  contented 

95.  ridicule 

96.  to  sleep 

97.  month 

98.  nice 

99.  woman 

100.  to  abuse 


*.  •  -*  . 

This  formula  has  been  constructed  after  many  years  of 
experience.  The  words  are  chosen  and  partially  arranged  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  strike  easily  almost  all  complexes  which 
occur  in  practice.  As  shown  above,  there  is  a  regulated 
mixing  of  the  grammatical  qualities  of  the  words.  For  this 
there  are  definite  reasons.1 

Before  the  experiment  begins  the  test  person  receives  the 
following  instruction  :  “  Answer  as  quickly  as  possible  with 
the  first  word  that  occurs  to  your  mind.”  This  instruction  is 
so  simple  that  it  can  easily  be  followed.  The  work  itself, 
moreover,  appears  extremely  easy,  so  that  it  might  be 
expected  any  one  could  accomplish  it  with  the  greatest  facility 
and  promptitude.  But,  contrary  to  expectation,  the  behaviour 
is  quite  otherwise. 


1  The  selection  of  these  stimulus  words  was  naturally  made  for  the 
German  language  only,  and  would  probably  have  to  be  considerably  changed 
for  the  English  language. 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


I.  An  Example  of  a  Normal  Reaction  Type. 


Stimulus 

Reaction 

word. 

Time. 

UnitO'2  second. 

Reaction. 

Reproduction. 

head 

9 

foot 

part  of  the  body 

green 

11 

blouse 

water 

14 

clear 

light 

to  sing 

6 

children 

dead 

11 

do  not  like  - 

long 

ship 

6 

7 

short 

forth 

I,  tall 

to  pay 

9 

bills 

window 

9 

room 

• 

friendly 

10 

children 

table 

9 

chair 

room 

to  ask 

10 

all  kinds 

cold 

7 

warm 

stem 

6 

flower 

to  dance 

9 

I  .  . 

like 

lake 

8 

Zurich 

sick 

8 

sister 

pride 

6 

people 

to  cook 

7 

woman 

ink 

5 

black 

angry 

10 

children 

people 

needle 

9 

to  prick 

to  swim 

10 

healthy 

voyage 

9 

England 

blue 

10 

pretty 

like 

lamp 

6 

light 

to  sin 
bread 
rich 

8 

10 

9 

much 

good 

nice 

people 

like,  necessary 

tree 

6 

green 

to  prick 

9 

need 

IR — An  Example  of  an  Hysterical  Reaction  Type. 


Stimulus 

Reaction 

word. 

Time. 

Unit  0’2  second. 

Reaction. 

Reproduction. 

needle 

7 

to  sew 

to  swim 

V  *  t 

9 

water  w 

ship 

voyage 

blue 

85 

10 

to  ride,  unotion,  voyager 
colour 

lamp 

7 

to  burn 

Denotes  misunderstanding, 
t  Denotes  repetition  of  the  stimulus  words. 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD  97 


An  Example  of  an  Hysterical  Reaction  Type — continued. 


Stimulus 

word. 

Reaction 

Time. 

Unitor  second. 

Reaction. 

Reproduction. 

to  sin 

22 

this  idea  is  totally  strange 
to  me,  I  do  not  recog¬ 
nize  it 

bread 

10 

to  eat 

rich  +„ 

50 

money,  I  don’t  know 

possession 

brown 

6 

nature 

green 

to  prick 

9 

needle 

pity 

12 

feeling 

yellow 

9 

colour 

mountain 

8 

high 

to  die 

8 

to  perish 

salt 

15 

salty  (laughs)  I  don’t  know 

NaCl 

new 

15 

old 

as  an  opposite 

custom 

10 

good 

barbaric 

to  pray 

12 

Deity 

money 

10 

wealth 

foolish 

12 

narrow  minded,  restricted 

? 

• 

pamphlet 

10 

paper 

despise 

30 

that  is  a  complicated,  too 
foolish 

? 

finger 

8 

hand,  not  only  hand,  but 
also  foot,  a  joint,  mem¬ 
ber,  extremity 

dear 

14 

to  pay  (laughs) 

bird 

8 

to  fly 

to  fall 

* 

30 

tomber,  I  will  say  no 
more,  what  do  you 
mean  by  fall  ? 

? 

book 

6 

to  read 

unjust 

8 

just 

frog 

11 

quack 

to  part 

30 

what  does  part  mean  ? 

? 

hunger 

10 

to  eat 

white 

12 

colour,  everything  pos¬ 
sible,  light 

child 

10 

little,  I  did  not  hear  well, 
bebe 

9 

• 

to  take  care 

14 

attention 

lead  pencil 

8 

to  draw,  everything  pos¬ 
sible  can  be  drawn 

sad 

9 

to  weep,  that  is  not  always 
the  case 

to  be 

plum 

16 

to  eat  a  plum,  pluck  what 
do  you  mean  by  it  ?  Is 
that  symbolic  ? 

fruit 

to  marry 

27 

how  can  you  ?  reunion, 
union 

union,  alliance 

t  Denotes  repetition  of  the  stimulus  words. 

7 


98 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the  reaction  times  in  an 
association  experiment  in  four  normal  test-persons.  The 
height  of  each  column  denotes  the  length  of  the  reaction 
time. 


Fig.  6. 


The  following  diagram  shows  the  course  of  the  reaction 
time  in  hysterical  individuals.  The  light  cross-hatched 
columns  denote  the  places  where  the  test-person  was  unable 
to  react  (so-called  failures  to  react). 

The  first  thing  that  strikes  us  is  the  fact  that  many  test- 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD  99 

pei  sons  show  a  marked  prolongation  of  the  reaction  time. 
This  would  seem  to  be  suggestive  of  intellectual  difficulties, 
—wrongly  however,  for  we  are  often  dealing  with  very 


ntelligent  persons  of  fluent  speech.  The  explanation  lies 
ather  in  the  emotions.  In  order  to  understand  the  matter 
omprehensively,  we  must  bear  in  mind  that  the  association 
xperiments  cannot  deal  with  a  separated  psychic  function, 


Fig. 


100 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


for  any  psychic  occurrence  is  never  a  thing  in  itself,  but  is 
always  the  resultant  of  the  entire  psychological  past.  The 
association  experiment,  too,  is  not  merely  a  method  for  the 


reproduction  of  separated  word  couplets,  but  it  is  a  kind  of 
pastime,  a  conversation  between  experimenter  and  test-person. 
In  a  certain  sense  it  is  still  more  than  that.  Words  really 
represent  condensed  actions,  situations,  and  things.  When  I 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


101 


give  a  stimulus  word  to  the  test-person,  which  denotes  an 
action,  it  is  as  if  I  represented  to  him  the  action  itself,  and 
asked  him,  “  How  do  you  behave  towards  it  ?  What  do  you 
think  of  it?  What  would  you  do  in  this  situation?”  If  I 
were  a  magician,  I  should  cause  the  situation  corresponding 
to  the  stimulus  word  to  appear  in  reality,  and  placing  the 


Fig.  10. 


test-person  in  its  midst,  I  should  then  study  his  manner  of 
reaction.  The  result  of  my  stimulus  words  would  thus 
undoubtedly  approach  infinitely  nearer  perfection.  But  as 
we  are  not  magicians,  we  must  be  contented  with  the 
linguistic  substitutes  for  reality ;  at  the  same  time  we 
must  not  forget  that  the  stimulus  word  will  almost  without 
exception  conjure  up  its  corresponding  situation.  All  depends 


102 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


on  how  the  test-person  reacts  to  this  situation.  The  word 
“  bride  ”  or  “  bridegroom  ”  will  not  evoke  a  simple  reaction  in 
a  young  lady  ;  but  the  reaction  will  be  deeply  influenced  by 
the  strong  feeling  tones  evoked,  the  more  so  if  the  experi¬ 
menter  be  a  man.  It  thus  happens  that  the  test-person  is 
often  unable  to  react  quickly  and  smoothly  to  all  stimulus 
words.  There  are  certain  stimulus  words  which  denote 
actions,  situations,  or  things,  about  which  the  test-person 
cannot  think  quickly  and  surely,  and  this  fact  is  demonstrated 
in  the  association  experiments.  The  examples  which  I  have 
just  given  show  an  abundance  of  long  reaction  times  and 
other  disturbances.  In  this  case  the  reaction  to  the  stimulus 
word  is  in  some.way  impeded,  that  is,  the  adaptation  to  the 
stimulus  word  is  disturbed.  The  stimulus  words  therefore 
act  upon  us  just  as  reality  acts ;  indeed,  a  person  who  shows 
such  great  disturbances  to  the  stimulus  words,  is  in  a  certain 
sense  but  imperfectly  adapted  to  reality.  Disease  itself  is 
an  imperfect  adaptation ;  hence  in  this  case  we  are  dealing 
with  something  morbid  in  the  psyche, — with  something  which 
is  either  temporary  or  persistently  pathological  in  character, 
that  is,  we  are  dealing  with  a  psychoneurosis,  with  a  func¬ 
tional  disturbance  of  the  mind.  This  rule,  however,  as  we 
shall  see  later,  is  not  without  its  exceptions. 

Let  us,  in  the  first  place,  continue  the  discussion  con¬ 
cerning  the  prolonged  reaction  time.  It  often  happens  that 
the  test-person  actually  does  not  know  what  to  answer  to  the 
stimulus  word.  He  waives  any  reaction,  and  for  the  moment 
he  totally  fails  to  obey  the  original  instructions,  and  shows 
liimself  incapable  of  adapting  himself  to  the  experimenter. 
If  this  phenomenon  occurs  frequently  in  an  experiment,  it 
signifies  a  high  degree  of  disturbance  in  adjustment.  I  would 
call  attention  to  the  fact  that  it  is  quite  indifferent  what 
reason  the  test-person  gives  for  the  refusal.  Some  find  that 
too  many  ideas  suddenly  occur  to  them ;  others,  that  they 
suffer  from  a  deficiency  of  ideas.  In  most  cases,  however, 
the  difficulties  first  perceived  are  so  deterrent  that  they 
actually  give  up  the  whole  reaction.  The  following  example 
shows  a  case  of  hysteria  with  many  failures  of  reaction  : — 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


108 


Stimulus 

word. 

Reaction 

Time. 

UnitO’2  second. 

Reaction. 

Reproduction. 

to  sing 

9 

nice 

+ 

dead 

15 

awful 

? 

long  * 

40 

the  time,  the  journey 

? 

ship  t 

+ 

to  pay 

11 

money 

window 

10 

big 

high 

friendly 

50 

a  man 

human 

to  cook 

10 

soup 

+ 

ink 

9 

black  or  blue 

+ 

angry 

bad 

needle 

9 

to  sew 

+ 

lamp 

14 

light 

+ 

to  sin 

bread 

15 

to  eat 

+ 

rich  *  t 

40 

good,  convenient 

+ 

yellow 

18 

paper 

colour 

mountain 

10 

high 

+ 

to  die 

15 

awful 

+ 

salt  t 

25 

salty 

O- 

I 

new 

good,  nice 

custom  t 

to  pray 

money  t 

85 

to  buy,  one  is  able 

+ 

pamphlet 

16 

to  write 

+ 

to  despise  t 

22 

people 

+ 

finger 

dear 

12 

thing 

+ 

bird 

12 

\ 

sings  or  flies 

+ 

In  example  II.  we  find  a  characteristic  phenomenon.  The 
test-person  is  not  content  with  the  requirements  of  the 
instruction,  that  is,  she  is  not  satisfied  with  one  word,  but 
reacts  with  many  words.  She  apparently  does  more  and 
better  than  the  instruction  requires,  but  in  so  doing  she  does 
not  fulfil  the  requirements  of  the  instruction.  Thus  she 
reacts  : — custom — good — barbaric  ;  foolish — narrow  minded 
— restricted ;  family — big — small — everything  possible. 

These  examples  show  in  the  first  place  that  many  other 
words  connect  themselves  with  the  reaction  word.  The  test 
person  is  unable  to  suppress  the  ideas  which  subsequently 
occur  to  her.  She  also  pursues  a  certain  tendency  which 

*  Denotes  misunderstanding.  +  Reproduced  unchanged. 

t  Denotes  repetition  of  the  stimulus  words. 


104 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


perhaps  is  more  exactly  expressed  in  the  following  reaction  : 
new — old — as  an  opposite.  The  addition  of  “  as  an  opposite  ” 
denotes  that  the  test-person  has  the  desire  to  add  something 
explanatory  or  supplementary.  This  tendency  is  also  shown 
in  the  following  reaction  :  finger — not  only  hand,  also  foot — a 
limb — member — extremity. 

Here  we  have  a  whole  series  of  supplements.  It  seems 
as  if  the  reaction  were  not  sufficient  for  the  test-person,  some¬ 
thing  else  must  always  be  added,  as  if  what  has  already  been 
said  were  incorrect  or  in  some  way  imperfect.  This  feeling 
is  what  Janet  designates  the  “  sentiment  d’incompletucle ,” 
but  this  by  no  means  explains  everything.  I  go  somewhat 
deeply  into  this  phenomenon  because  it  is  very  frequently 
met  with  in  neurotic  individuals.  It  is  not  merely  a  small 
and  unimportant  subsidiary  manifestation  demonstrable  in  an 
insignificant  experiment,  but  rather  an  elemental  and  univer¬ 
sal  manifestation  which  plays  a  role  in  other  ways  in  the 
psychic  life  of  neurotics. 

By  his  desire  to  supplement,  the  test-person  betrays  a 
tendency  to  give  the  experimenter  more  than  he  wants,  he 
actually  makes  great  efforts  to  find  further  mental  occurrences 
in  order  finally  to  discover  something  quite  satisfactory.  If 
we  translate  this  observation  into  the  psychology  of  everyday 
life,  it  signifies  that  the  test-person  has  a  constant  tendency 
to  give  to  others  more  feeling  than  is  required  and  expected. 
According  to  Freud,  this  is  a  sign  of  a  reinforced  object- 
libido,  that  is,  it  is  a  compensation  for  an  inner  want  of 
satisfaction  and  voidness  of  feeling.  This  elementary  observa¬ 
tion  therefore  displays  one  of  the  characteristics  of  hysterics, 
namely,  the  tendency  to  allow  themselves  to  be  carried  away 
by  everything,  to  attach  themselves  enthusiastically  to  every¬ 
thing,  and  always  to  promise  too  much  and  hence  perform  too 
little.  Patients  with  this  symptom  are,  in  my  experience, 
always  hard  to  deal  with ;  at  first  they  are  enthusiastically 
enamoured  of  the  physician,  for  a  time  going  so  far  as  to 
accept  everything  he  says  blindly  ;  but  they  soon  merge  into 
an  equally  blind  resistance  against  him,  thus  rendering  any 
educative  influence  absolutely  impossible. 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


105 


We  see  therefore  in  this  type  of  reaction  an  expression  of 
a  tendency  to  give  more  than  is  asked  or  expected.  This 
tendency  betrays  itself  also  in  other  failures  to  follow  the 
instruction : — 

to  quarrel — angry — different  things — I  always  quarrel 
at  home ; 

to  marry — how  can  you  marry  ? — reunion  union ; 

plum — to  eat — to  pluck — what  do  you  mean  by  it  ?■  is 
it  symbolic  ? 

to  sin — this  idea  is  quite  strange  to  me,  I  do  not 
recognise  it. 

These  reactions  show  that  the  test-person  gets  away 
altogether  from  the  situation  of  the  experiment.  For  the 
instruction  was,  that  he  should  answer  only  with  the  first 
word  which  occurs  to  him.  But  here  we  note  that  the  stimulus 
words  act  with  excessive  strength,  that  they  are  taken  as 
if  they  were  direct  personal  questions.  The  test-person 
entirely  forgets  that  we  deal  with  mere  words  which  stand 
in  print  before  us,  but  finds  a  personal  meaning  in  them; 
he  tries  to  di'Vjine  their  intention  and  defend  himself  against 
them,  thus  altogether  forgetting  the  original  instructions. 

This  elementary  observation  discloses  another  common 
peculiarity  of  hysterics,  namely,  that  of  taking  everything 
personally,  of  never  being  able  to  remain  objective,  and  of 
allowing  themselves  to  be  carried  away  by  momentary  im¬ 
pressions  ;  this  again  shows  the  characteristics  of  the  en¬ 
hanced  object-libido. 

Yet  another  sign  of  impeded  adaptation  is  the  often 
occurring  repetitions  of  the  stimulus  words .  The  test-persons 
repeat  the  stimulus  word  as  if  they  had  not  heard  or  under¬ 
stood  it  distinctly.  They  repeat  it  just  as  we  repeat  a 
difficult  question  in  order  to  grasp  it  better  before  answer¬ 
ing.  This  same  tendency  is  shown  in  the  experiment.  The 
questions  are  repeated  because  the  stimulus  words  act  on 
hysterical  individuals  in  much  the  same  way  as  difficult 
personal  questions.  In  principle  it  is  the  same  phenomenon 
as  the  subsequent  completion  of  the  reaction. 


106  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

In  many  experiments  we  observe  that  the  same  reaction 
constantly  reappears  to  the  most  varied  stimulus  words. 
These  woids  seem  to  possess  a  special  reproduction  tendency, 
and  it  is  very  interesting  to  examine  their  relationship  to  the 
test-person.  For  example,  I  have  observed  a  case  in  which 
the  patient  repeated  the  word  “  short  ”  a  great  many  times 
and  often  in  places  where  it  had  no  meaning.  The  test- 
person  could  not  directly  state  the  reason  for  the  repetition 
of  the  word  “  short.  From  experience  I  knew  that  such 
predicates  always  relate  either  to  the  test-person  himself  or 
to  the  person  nearest  to  him.  I  assumed  that  in  this  word 

short  he  designated  himself,  and  that  in  this  way  he 
helped  to  express  something  very  painful  to  him.  The  test- 
person  is  of  very  small  stature.  He  is  the  youngest  of  four 
brothers,  who,  in  contrast  to  himself,  are  all  tall.  He  was 
always  the  “child''  in  the  family;  he  was  nicknamed 
“  Short”  and  was  treated  by  all  as  the  “ little  one.”  This 
resulted  in  a  total  loss  of  self-confidence.  Although  he  was 
intelligent,  and  despite  long  study,  he  could  not  decide  to 
present  himself  for  examination ;  he  finally  became  im¬ 
potent,  and  merged  into  a  psychosis  in  which,  whenever  he 
was  alone,  he  took  delight  in  walking  about  in  his  room  on 
his  toes  in  order  to  appear  taller.  The  word  “  short,”  there¬ 
fore,  stood  to  him  for  a  great  many  painful  experiences. 
This  is  usually  the  case  with  the  perseverated  words ;  they 
always  contain  something  of  importance  for  the  individual 
psychology  of  the  test-person. 

The  signs  thus  far  discussed  are  not  found  spread  about 
in  an  arbitrary  way  through  the  whole  experiment,  but  are 
seen  in  very  definite  places,  namely,  where  the  stimulus 
words  strike  against  emotionally  accentuated  complexes. 
This  observation  is  the  foundation  of  the  so-called  “  diag¬ 
nosis  of  facts  ”  ( Tatbe stands diagnostik ).  This  method  is 
employed  to  discover,  by  means  of  an  association  experi¬ 
ment,  which  is  the  culprit  among  a  number  of  persons 
suspected  of  a  crime.  That  this  is  possible  I  will  demon¬ 
strate  by  the  brief  recital  of  a  concrete  case. 

On  the  6th  of  February,  1908,  our  supervisor  reported  to 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


107 


me  that  a  nurse  complained  to  her  of  having  been  robbed 
during  the  forenoon  of  the  previous  day.  The  facts  were  as 
follows :  The  nurse  kept  her  money,  amounting  to  70  francs, 
in  a  pocket-book  which  she  had  placed  in  her  cupboard  where 
she  also  kept  her  clothes.  The  cupboard  contained  two 
compartments,  of  which  one  belonged  to  the  nurse  who  was 
robbed,  and  the  other  to  the  head  nurse.  These  two  nurses 
and  a  third  one,  who  was  an  intimate  friend  of  the  head 
nurse,  slept  in  the  room  where  the  cupboard  was.  This  room 
was  in  a  section  which  was  occupied  in  common  by  six  nurses 
who  had  at  all  times  free  access  to  this  room.  Given  such  a 
state  of  affairs  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  that  the  supervisor 
shrugged  her  shoulders  when  I  asked  her  whom  she  most 
suspected. 

Further  investigation  showed  that  on  the  morning  of  the 
theft,  the  above-mentioned  friend  of  the  head  nurse  was 
slightly  indisposed  and  remained  the  whole  morning  in  bed 
in  the  room.  Hence,  following  the  indications  of  the  plaintiff, 
the  theft  could  have  taken  place  only  in  the  afternoon.  Of 
the  other  four  nurses  upon  whom  suspicion  could  possibly 
fall,  there  was  one  who  attended  regularly  to  the  cleaning  of 
the  room  in  question,  while  the  remaining  three  had  nothing 
to  do  in  it,  nor  was  it  shown  that  any  of  them  had  spent  any 
time  there  on  the  previous  day. 

It  was  therefore  natural  that  the  last  three  nurses  should 
be  regarded  for  the  time  being  as  less  implicated,  and  I  there¬ 
fore  began  by  subjecting  the  first  three  to  the  experiment. 

From  the  information  I  had  obtained  of  the  case,  I  knew 
that  the  cupboard  was  locked  but  that  the  key  was  kept  near 
by  in  a  very  conspicuous  place,  that  on  opening  the  cupboard 
the  first  thing  which  would  strike  the  eye  was  a  fur  boa,  and, 
moreover,  that  the  pocket-book  was  between  the  linen  in  an 
inconspicuous  place.  The  pocket-book  was  of  dark  reddish 
leather,  and  contained  the  following  objects:  a  50-franc  bank¬ 
note,  a  20-franc  piece,  some  centimes,  a  small  silver  watch- 
chain,  a  stencil  used  in  the  lunatic  asylum  to  mark  the  kitchen 
utensils,  and  a  small  receipt  from  Dosenbach’s  shoeshop  in 
Zurich. 


108 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


Besides  the  plaintiff  and  the  guilty  one,  only  the  head 
nurse  knew  the  exact  particulars  of  the  deed,  for  as  soon  as 
the  former  missed  her  money  she  immediately  asked  the 
head  nurse  to  help  her  find  it,  thus  the  head  nurse  had  been 
able  to  learn  the  smallest  details,  which  naturally  rendered 
the  experiment  still  more  difficult,  for  she  was  precisely  the 
one  most  suspected.  The  conditions  for  the  experiment  were 
better  for  the  others,  since  they  knew  nothing  concerning 
the  particulars  of  the  deed,  and  some  not  even  that  a  theft 
had  been  committed.  As  critical  stimulus  words  I  selected 
the  name  of  the  robbed  nurse,  plus  the  following  words  :  cup¬ 
board,  door,  open,  key,  yesterday,  banknote,  gold,  70,  50,  20, 
money,  watch,  pocket-book,  chain,  silver,  to  hide,  fur,  dark 
reddish,  leather,  centimes,  stencil,  receipt,  Dosenbach.  Be¬ 
sides  these  words  which  referred  directly  to  the  deed,  I  took 
also  the  following,  which  had  a  special  effective  value  :  theft, 
to  take,  to  steal,  suspicion,  blame,  court,  police,  to  lie,  to 
fear,  to  discover,  to  arrest,  innocent. 

Tllte  objection  is  often  made  to  the  last  species  of  words 
that  they  may  produce  a  strong  affective  resentment  even  in 
innocent  persons,  and  for  that  reason  one  cannot  attribute  to 
them  any  comparative  value.  Nevertheless,  it  may  always 
be  questioned  whether  the  affective  resentment  of  an  innocent 
person  will  have  the  same  effect  on  the  association  as  that  of 
a  guilty  one,  and  that  question  can  only  be  authoritatively 
answered  by  experience.  Until  the  contrary  is  demonstrated, 
I  maintain  that  words  of  the  above-mentioned  type  may 
profitably  be  used. 

I  distributed  these  critical  words  among  twice  as  many 
indifferent  stimulus  words  in  such  a  manner  that  each 
critical  word  was  followed  by  two  indifferent  ones.  As  a 
rule  it  is  well  to  follow  up  the  critical  words  by  indifferent 
words  in  order  that  the  action  of  the  first  may  be  clearly 
distinguished.  But  one  may  also  follow  up  one  critical  word 
by  another,  especially  if  one  wishes  to  bring  into  relief  the 
action  of  the  second.  Thus  I  placed  together  “  darkish  red  ” 
and  “  leather,”  and  “  chain  ”  and  “  silver.” 

After  this  preparatory  work  I  undertook  the  experiment 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD  109 

with  the  three  above-mentioned  nurses.  As  examinations  of 
this  kind  can  be  rendered  into  a  foreign  tongue  only  with  the 
greatest  difficulty,  I  will  content  myself  with  presenting  the 
general  results,  and  with  giving  some  examples.  I  first 
undertook  the  experiment  with  the  friend  of  the  head  nurse, 
and  judging  by  the  circumstances  she  appeared  only  slightly 
moved.  The  head  nurse  was  next  examined;  she  showed 
marked  excitement,  her  pulse  being  120  per  minute  immedi¬ 
ately  after  the  experiment.  The  last  to  be  examined  was  the 
nurse  who  attended  to  the  cleaning  of  the  room  in  which  the 
theft  occurred.  She  was  the  most  tranquil  of  the  three ;  she 
displayed  but  little  embarrassment,  and  only  in  the  course  of 
the  experiment  did  it  occur  to  her  that  she  was  suspected  of 
stealing,  a  fact  which  manifestly  disturbed  her  towards  the 

end  of  the  experiment. 

The  general  impression  from  the  examination  spoke 
strongly  against  the  head  nurse.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
she  evinced  a  very  “  suspicious,”  or  I  might  almost  say, 
“impudent”  countenance.  With  the  definite  idea  of  find¬ 
ing  in  her  the  guilty  one  I  set  about  adding  up  the 

results. 

One  can  make  use  of  many  special  methods  of  computing, 
but  they  are  not  all  equally  good  and  equally  exact.  (One 
must  always  resort  to  calculation,  as  appearances  are  enor¬ 
mously  deceptive.)  The  method  which  is  most  to  be  recom¬ 
mended  is  that  of  the  probable  average  of  the  reaction  time. 
It  shows  at  a  glance  the  difficulties  which  the  person  in  the 
experiment  had  to  overcome  in  the  reaction. 

The  technique  of  this  calculation  is  very  simple.  The 
probable  average  is  the  middle  number  of  the  various  reaction 
times  arranged  in  a  series.  The  reaction  times  are,  for 
example,1  placed  in  the  following  manner:  5,5, 5, 7, 7, 7, 7, 
8  9  9,9,  12,  IB,  14.  The  number  found  in  the  middle  (8) 
is  the  probable  average  of  this  series.  Following  the  order 
of  the  experiment,  I  shall  denote  the  friend  of  the  head 
nurse  by  the  letter  A,  the  head  nurse  by  B,  and  the  third 

nurse  by  C. 

1  Reaction  times  are  always  given  in  fifths  of  a  second. 


110  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

The  probable  averages  of  the  reaction  are  : 

ABC 
100  12*0  13*5. 

No  conclusions  can  be  drawn  from  this  result.  But  the 
average  reaction  times  calculated  separately  for  the  indifferent 
reactions,  for  the  critical,  and  for  those  immediately  following 
the  critical  (post-critical)  are  more  interesting. 

From  this  example  we  see  that  whereas  A  has  the  shortest 
reaction  time  for  the  indifferent  reactions,  she  shows  in  com- 

pans  on  to  the  other  two  persons  of  the  experiment,  the  longest 
time  for  the  critical  reactions. 


The  Probable  Average  of  the  Reaction  Time. 


for 

A 

B 

C 

Indifferent  reactions  . 

Critical  reactions 

Post-critical  reactions 

•  •  • 

• - 

100 

16*0 

100 

1 

110 

130 

110 

120 

150 

13*0 

The  difference  between  the  reaction  times,  let  us  say 
between  the  indifferent  and  the  critical,  is  6  for  A,  2  for  B, 

and  3  for  C,  that  is,  it  is  more  than  double  for  A  when 
compared  with  the  other  two  persons. 

.  In  tlle  same  way  we  can  calculate  how  many  complex 
indicators  there  are  on  an  average  for  the  indifferent,  critical 
etc.,  reactions. 


The  Average  Complex-Indicators  for  each  Reaction. 


for 

A 

B 

c 

Indifferent  reactions  . 

Critical  reactions 

Post-critical  reactions 

0*6 

1*3 

06 

0-9 

09 

10 

0-8 

1*2 

08 

The  difference  between  the  indifferent  and  critical  reactions 
for  A  =  0'7,  for  B  =  0,  for  C  =  0-4.  A  is  again  the  highest. 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


111 


Another  question  to  consider  is,  in  what  special  way  do 
the  imperfect  reactions  behave  ? 

The  result  for  A  =  34%,  for  B  =  28%,  and  for  C  =  80%. 

Here,  too,  A  reaches  the  highest  value,  and  in  this,  I 
believe,  we  see  the  characteristic  moment  of  the  guilt-complex 
in  A.  I  am,  however,  unable  to  explain  here  circumstan¬ 
tially  the  reasons  why  I  maintain  that  memory  errors  are 
related  to  an  emotional  complex,  as  this  would  lead  me 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  present  work.  I  therefore  refer  the 
reader  to  my  work  “  Ueber  die  Reproductionsstorrungen  im 
Associationsexperiment”  (IX  Beitrag  der  Diagnost.  Associat. 
Studien). 

As  it  often  happens  that  an  association  of  strong  feeling 
tone  produces  in  the  experiment  a  perseveration,  with  the 
result  that  not  only  the  critical  association,  but  also  two  or 
three  successive  associations  are  imperfectly  reproduced,  it 
will  be  very  interesting  to  see  how  many  imperfect  reproduc¬ 
tions  are  so  arranged  in  the  series  in  our  cases.  The  result 
of  computation  shows  that  the  imperfect  reproductions  thus 
arranged  in  series  are  for  A  64*7%,  for  B  55*5%,  and  for 
C  30*0%. 

Again  we  find  that  A  has  the  greatest  percentage.  To  be 
sure,  this  may  partially  depend  on  the  fact  that  A  also 
possesses  the  greatest  number  of  imperfect  reproductions. 
Given  a  small  quantity  of  reactions,  it  is  usual  that  the 
greater  the  total  number  of  the  same,  the  more  imperfect 
reactions  will  occur  in  groups.  But  in  order  that  this  should 
be  probable  it  could  not  occur  in  so  great  a  measure  as  in  our 
case,  where,  on  the  other  hand,  B  and  C  have  not  a  much 
smaller  number  of  imperfect  reactions  when  compared  to  A. 
It  is  significant  that  C  with  her  slight  emotions  during  the 
experiment  shows  the  minimum  of  imperfect  reproductions 
arranged  in  series. 

As  imperfect  reproductions  are  also  complex  indicators,  it 
is  necessary  to  see  how  they  distribute  themselves  in  respect 
to  the  indifferent,  critical,  etc.,  reactions. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  bring  into  prominence  the 
differences  between  the  indifferent  and  the  critical  reactions 


112 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


of  the  various  subjects  as  shown  by  the  resulting  numbers  of 
the  table.  In  this  respect,  too,  A  occupies  first  place. 


Imperfect  Reproductions  which  Occur. 


in 

A 

B 

c 

Indifferent  reactions 

10 

12 

11 

Critical  reactions 

19 

9 

12 

Post-critical  reactions 

5 

7 

7 

Naturally,  here,  too,  there  is  a  probability  that  the 
greater  the  quantity  of  the  imperfect  reproductions  the 
greater  is  their  number  in  the  critical  reactions.  If  we 
suppose  that  the  imperfect  reproductions  are  distributed 
regularly  and  without  choice,  among  all  the  reactions,  there 
will  be  a  greater  number  of  them  for  A  (in  comparison  with  B 
and  C)  even  as  reactions  to  critical  words,  since  A  has  the 
greater  number  of  imperfect  reproductions.  Admitting  such 
a  uniform  distribution  of  the  imperfect  reproductions,  it  is 
easy  to  calculate  how  many  we  ought  to  expect  to  belong  to 
each  individual  kind  of  reaction. 

From  this  calculation  it  appears  that  the  disturbances 
of  reproductions  which  concern  the  critical  reactions  for  A 
greatly  surpass  the  number  expected,  for  C  they  are  0*9 
higher,  while  for  B  they  are  lower. 


Imperfect  Reproductions. 


Which  may  be  expected 

Which  really  occur 

For 

Indifferent 

Critical 

Post-critical 

Indifferent 

Critical 

Post-critical 

Reactions. 

Reactions. 

Reactions. 

Reactions. 

Reactions. 

Reactions. 

A 

112 

12*5 

10*2 

10 

19 

5 

B 

9*2 

10-3 

8-4 

12 

9 

7 

C 

9-9 

111 

90 

11 

12 

7 

All  this  points  to  the  fact  that  in  the  subject  A  the  critical 
stimulus  words  acted  with  the  greatest  intensity,  and  hence 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


113 


the  greatest  suspicion  falls  on  A.  Practically  one  may 
assume  the  probability  of  this  person’s  guilt.  The  same 
evening  A  made  a  complete  confession  of  the  theft,  and  thus 
the  success  of  the  experiment  was  confirmed. 

Such  a  result  is  undoubtedly  of  scientific  interest  and 
worthy  of  serious  consideration.  There  is  much  in  experi¬ 
mental  psychology  which  is  of  less  use  than  the  material 
exemplified  in  this  test.  Putting  the  theoretical  interest 
altogether  aside,  we  have  here  something  that  is  not  to  be 
despised  from  a  practical  point  of  view,  to  wit,  a  culprit 
has  been  brought  to  light  in  a  much  easier  and  shorter  way 
than  is  customary.  What  has  been  possible  once  or  twice 
ought  to  be  possible  again,  and  it  is  well  worth  while  to 
investigate  some  means  of  rendering  the  method  increasingly 
capable  of  rapid  and  sure  results. 

This  application  of  the  experiment  shows  that  it  is 
possible  to  strike  a  concealed,  indeed  an  unconscious  complex 
by  means  of  a  stimulus  word  ;  and  conversely  we  may  assume 
with  great  certainty  that  behind  a  reaction  which  shows  a 
complex  indicator  there  is  a  hidden  complex,  even  though 
the  test-person  strongly  denies  it.  One  must  get  rid  of  the 
idea  that  educated  and  intelligent  test-persons  are  able  to  see 
and  admit  their  own  complexes.  Every  human  mind  contains 
much  that  is  unacknowledged  and  hence  unconscious  as  such  ; 
and  no  one  can  boast  that  he  stands  completely  above  his 
complexes.  Those  who  persist  in  maintaining  that  they  can, 
are  not  aware  of  the  spectacles  upon  their  noses. 


It  has  long  been  thought  that  the  association  experiment 
enables  one  to  distinguish  certain  intellectual  types.  That  is 
not  the  case.  The  experiment  does  not  give  us  any  particular 
insight  into  the  purely  intellectual,  but  rather  into  the  emo¬ 
tional  processes.  To  be  sure  we  can  erect  certain  types  of 
reaction  ;  they  are  not,  however,  based  on  intellectual  peculi¬ 
arities,  but  depend  entirely  on  the  proportionate  emotional  states. 
Educated  test-persons  usually  show  superficial  and  linguisti¬ 
cally  deep-rooted  associations,  whereas  the  uneducated  form 
more  valuable  associations  and  often  of  ingenious  significance. 

8 


114 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


This  behaviour  would  be  paradoxical  from  an  intellectual  view¬ 
point.  The  meaningful  associations  of  the  uneducated  are  not 
really  the  product  of  intellectual  thinking,  but  are  simply  the 
results  of  a  special  emotional  state.  The  whole  thing  is  more 
important  to  the  uneducated,  his  emotion  is  greater,  and  for 
that  reason  he  pays  more  attention  to  the  experiment  than 
the  educated  person,  and  his  associations  are  therefore  more 
significant.  Apart  from  those  determined  by  education,  we 
have  to  consider  three  principal  individual  types  : 

1.  An  objective  type  with  undisturbed  reactions. 

2.  A  so-called  complex  type  with  many  disturbances  in 
the  experiment  occasioned  by  the  constellation  of  a  complex. 

3.  A  so-called  definition-type.  This  type  consists  in  the 
fact  that  the  reaction  always  gives  an  explanation  or  a  defini¬ 
tion  of  the  content  of  the  stimulus  word ;  e.g. : 

apple, — a  tree-fruit ; 
table, — a  piece  of  household  furniture ; 
to  promenade, — an  activity ; 
father, — chief  of  the  family. 

This  type  is  chiefly  found  in  stupid  persons,  and  it  is  there¬ 
fore  quite  usual  in  imbecility.  But  it  can  also  be  found  in 
persons  who  are  not  really  stupid,  but  who  do  not  wish  to  be 
taken  as  stupid.  Thus  a  young  student  from  whom  associations 
were  taken  by  an  older  intelligent  woman  student  reacted 
altogether  with  definitions.  The  test-person  was  of  the 
opinion  that  it  was  an  examination  in  intelligence,  and  there¬ 
fore  directed  most  of  his  attention  to  the  significance  of  the 
stimulus  words ;  his  associations,  therefore,  looked  like  those 
of  an  idiot.  All  idiots,  however,  do  not  react  with  definitions ; 
probably  only  those  react  in  this  way  who  w7ould  like  to 
appear  smarter  than  they  are,  that  is,  those  to  whom  their 
stupidity  is  painful.  I  call  this  widespread  complex  the 
“intelligence-complex.”  A  normal  test-person  reacts  in  a 
most  overdrawn  manner  as  follows : 

anxiety — heart  anguish  ; 
to  kiss — love’s  unfolding ; 
to  kiss — perception  of  friendship. 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


115 


This  type  gives  a  constrained  and  unnatural  impression. 
The  test-persons  wish  to  be  more  than  they  are,  they  wish  to 
exert  more  influence  than  they  really  have.  Hence  we  see 
that  persons  with  an  intelligence  complex  are  usually  un¬ 
natural  and  constrained;  that  they  are  always  somewhat 
stilted,  or  flowery ;  they  show  a  predilection  for  complicated 
foreign  words,  high-sounding  quotations,  and  other  intellectual 
ornaments.  In  this  way  they  wish  to  influence  their  fellow 
beings,  they  wish  to  impress  others  with  their  apparent 
education  and  intelligence,  and  thus  to  compensate  for  their 
painful  feeling  of  stupidity.  The  definition  type  is  closely 
related  to  the  predicate  type,  or,  to  express  it  more  precisely, 
to  the  predicate  type  expressing  personal  judgment  (Wert- 
prddikattypus).  For  example : 

flower — pretty ; 
money — convenient ; 
animal — ugly; 
knife — dangerous ; 
death — ghastly. 

In  the  definition  type  the  intellectual  significance  of  the 
stimulus  word  is  rendered  prominent,  but  in  the  predicate 
type  its  emotional  significance.  There  are  predicate  types 
which  show  great  exaggeration  where  reactions  such  as  the 
following  appear : 

piano — horrible ; 

to  sing — heavenly  ; 

mother — ardently  loved  ; 

father — something  good,  nice,  holy. 

In  the  definition  type  an  absolutely  intellectual  make-up 
is  manifested  or  rather  simulated,  but  here  there  is  a  very 
emotional  one.  Yet,  just  as  the  definition  type  really  conceals 
a  lack  of  intelligence,  so  the  excessive  emotional  expression 
conceals  or  overcompensates  an  emotional  deficiency.  This 
conclusion  is  very  interestingly  illustrated  by  the  following 
discovery : — On  investigating  the  influence  of  the  familiar 
milieus  on  the  association  type  it  was  found  that  young 


116 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


people  seldom  possess  a  predicate  type,  but  that,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  predicate  type  increases  in  frequency  with 
advancing  age.  In  women  the  increase  of  the  predicate  type 
begins  a  little  after  the  40th  year,  and  in  men  after  the 
60th.  That  is  the  precise  time  when,  owing  to  the  deficiency 
of  sexuality,  there  actually  occurs  considerable  emotional  loss. 
If  a  test-person  evinces  a  distinct  predicate  type,  it  may  always 
be  inferred  that  a  marked  internal  emotional  deficiency  is 
thereby  compensated.  Still,  one  cannot  reason  conversely, 
namely,  that  an  inner  emotional  deficiency  must  produce  a 
predicate  type,  no  more  than  that  idiocy  directly  produces  a 
definition  type.  A  predicate  type  can  also  betray  itself 
through  the  external  behaviour,  as,  for  example,  through  a 
particular  affectation,  enthusiastic  exclamations,  an  em¬ 
bellished  behaviour,  and  the  constrained  sounding  language 
so  often  observed  in  society. 

The  complex  type  shows  no  particular  tendency  except  the 
concealment  of  a  complex,  whereas  the  definition  and  predicate 
types  betray  a  positive  tendency  to  exert  in  some  way  a  definite 
influence  on  the  experimenter.  But  whereas  the  definition 
type  tends  to  bring  to  light  its  intelligence,  the  predicate  type 
displays  its  emotion.  I  need  hardly  add  of  what  importance 
such  determinations  are  for  the  diagnosis  of  character. 

After  finishing  an  association  experiment  I  usually  add 
another  of  a  different  kind,  the  so-called  reproduction  experi¬ 
ment.  I  repeat  the  same  stimulus  words  and  ask  the  test- 
persons  whether  they  still  remember  their  former  reactions. 
In  many  instances  the  memory  fails,  and  as  experience  shows, 
these  locations  are  stimulus  words  which  touched  an  emo¬ 
tionally  accentuated  complex,  or  stimulus  words  immediately 
following  such  critical  words. 

This  phenomenon  has  been  designated  as  paradoxical  and 
contrary  to  all  experience.  For  it  is  known  that  emotionally 
accentuated  things  are  better  retained  in  memory  than  in¬ 
different  things.  This  is  quite  true,  but  it  does  not  hold  for 
the  linguistic  expression  of  an  emotionally  accentuated  con¬ 
tent.  On  the  contrary,  one  very  easily  forgets  what  he  has 
said  under  emotion,  one  is  even  apt  to  contradict  himself 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


117 


about  it.  Indeed,  the  efficacy  of  cross-examinations  in  court 
depends  on  this  fact.  The  reproduction  method  therefore 
serves  to  render  still  more  prominent  the  complex  stimulus. 
In  normal  persons  we  usually  find  a  limited  number  of  false 
reproductions,  seldom  more  than  19-20  per  cent.,  while  in 
abnormal  persons,  especially  in  hysterics,  we  often  find 
from  20-40  per  cent,  of  false  reproductions.  The  reproduction 
certainty  is  therefore  in  certain  cases  a  measure  for  the  emo¬ 
tivity  of  the  test-person. 

By  far  the  larger  number  of  neurotics  show  a  pronounced 
tendency  to  cover  up  their  intimate  affairs  in  impenetrable 
darkness,  even  from  the  doctor,  so  that  he  finds  it  very  difficult 
to  form  a  proper  picture  of  the  patient’s  psychology.  In  such 
cases  I  am  greatly  assisted  by  the  association  experiment. 
When  the  experiment  is  finished,  I  first  look  over  the  general 
course  of  the  reaction  times.  I  see  a  great  many  very  pro¬ 
longed  intervals  ;  this  means  that  the  patient  can  only  adjust 
himself  with  difficulty,  that  his  psychological  functions  pro¬ 
ceed  with  marked  internal  friction,  with  resistances .  The 
greater  number  of  neurotics  react  only  under  great  and  very 
definite  resistances  ;  there  are,  however,  others  in  whom  the 
average  reaction  times  are  as  short  as  in  the  normal,  and  in 
whom  the  other  complex  indicators  are  lacking,  but,  despite 
that  fact,  they  undoubtedly  present  neurotic  symptoms. 
These  rare  cases  are  especially  found  among  very  intelligent 
and  educated  persons,  chronic  patients  who,  after  many 
years  of  practice,  have  learned  to  control  their  outward 
behaviour  and  therefore  outwardly  display  very  little  if  any 
trace  of  their  neuroses.  The  superficial  observer  would  take 
them  for  normal,  yet  in  some  places  they  show  disturbances 
which  betray  the  repressed  complex. 

After  examining  the  reaction  times  I  turn  my  attention  to 
the  type  of  the  association  to  ascertain  with  what  type  I  am 
dealing.  If  it  is  a  predicate  type  I  draw  the  conclusions  which 
I  have  detailed  above ;  if  it  is  a  complex  type  I  try  to  ascertain 
the  nature  of  the  complex.  With  the  necessary  experience  one 
can  readily  emancipate  one’s  judgment  from  the  test-person’s 


118 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


statements  and  almost  without  any  previous  knowledge  of  the 
test-persons  it  is  possible  under  certain  circumstances  to  read 
the  most  intimate  complexes  from  the  results  of  the  experi¬ 
ment.  I  look  at  first  for  the  reproduction  words  and  put  them 
together,  and  then  I  look  for  the  stimulus  words  which  show 

« i 

the  greatest  disturbances.  In  many  cases  merely  assorting 
these  words  suffices  to  unearth  the  complex.  In  some  cases 
it  is  necessary  to  put  a  question  here  and  there.  The  matter 
is  well  illustrated  by  the  following  concrete  example : 

It  concerns  an  educated  woman  of  80  years  of  age,  married 
three  years  previously.  Since  her  marriage  she  has  suffered 
from  episodic  excitement  in  which  she  is  violently  jealous  of  her 
husband.  The  marriage  is  a  happy  one  in  every  other  respect, 
and  it  should  be  noted  that  the  husband  gives  no  cause  for 
the  jealousy.  The  patient  is  sure  that  she  loves  him  and 
that  her  excited  states  are  groundless.  She  cannot  imagine 
whence  these  excited  states  originate,  and  feels  quite  per¬ 
plexed  over  them.  It  is  to  be  noted  that  she  is  a  catholic 
and  has  been  brought  up  religiously,  while  her  husband  is 
a  protestant.  This  difference  of  religion  did  not  admittedly 
play  any  part.  A  more  thorough  anamnesis  showed  the 
existence  of  an  extreme  prudishness.  Thus,  for  example,  no 
one  was  allowed  to  talk  in  the  patient’s  presence  about  her 
sister’s  childbirth,  because  the  sexual  moment  suggested 
therein  caused  her  the  greatest  excitement.  She  always  un¬ 
dressed  in  the  adjoining  room  and  never  in  her  husband’s 
presence,  etc.  At  the  age  of  27  she  was  supposed  to  have 
had  no  idea  how  children  were  born.  The  associations  gave 
the  results  shown  in  the  accompanying  chart. 

The  stimulus  words  characterised  by  marked  disturbances 
are  the  following :  yellow,  to  pray,  to  separate,  to  marry,  to 
quarrel,  old,  family,  happiness,  false,  fear,  to  kiss,  bride,  to 
choose,  contented.  The  strongest  disturbances  are  found  in 
the  following  stimulus  words  :  to  pray,  to  marry ,  happiness , 
false,  fear ,  and  contented.  These  words,  therefore,  more  than 
any  others,  seem  to  strike  the  complex.  The  conclusions  that 
can  be  drawn  from  this  is  that  she  is  not  indifferent  to  the 
fact  that  her  husband  is  a  protestant,  that  she  again  thinks 


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THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


119 


of  praying,  believes  there  is  something  wrong  with  marriage, 
that  she  is  false,  entertains  fancies  of  faithlessness,  is  afraid 
(of  the  husband?  of  the  future?),  she  is  not  contented  with 
her  choice  (to  choose)  and  she  thinks  of  separation.  The 
patient  therefore  has  a  separation  complex,  for  she  is  very  dis¬ 
contented  with  her  married  life.  When  I  told  her  this  result 
she  was  affected  and  at  first  attempted  to  deny  it,  then  to  mince 
over  it,  but  finally  she  admitted  everything  I  said  and  added 
more.  She  reproduced  a  large  number  of  fancies  of  faithless¬ 
ness,  reproaches  against  her  husband,  etc.  Her  prudishness 
and  jealousy  were  merely  a  projection  of  her  own  sexual  wishes  on 
her  husband.  Because  she  was  faithless  in  her  fancies  and  did 
not  admit  it  to  herself  she  was  jealous  of  her  husband. 

It  is  impossible  in  a  lecture  to  give  a  review  of  all  the 
manifold  uses  of  the  association  experiment.  I  must  content 
myself  with  having  demonstrated  to  you  a  few  of  its  chief 
uses. 


Lecture  II 

THE  FAMILIAR  CONSTELLATIONS 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen:  As  you  have  seen,  there  are 
manifold  ways  in  which  the  association  experiment  may  be 
employed  in  practical  psychology.  I  should  like  to  speak 
to  you  to-day  about  another  use  of  this  experiment  which 
is  primarily  of  theoretical  significance.  My  pupil,  Miss 
Fiirst,  M.D.,  made  the  following  researches:  she  applied 
the  association  experiment  to  24  families,  consisting  altogether 
of  100  test-persons ;  the  resulting  material  amounted  to  22,200 
associations.  This  material  was  elaborated  in  the  following 
manner:  Fifteen  separate  groups  were  formed  according  to 
logical-linguistic  standards,  and  the  associations  were  arranged 
as  follows : 


I. 

Co-ordination 

•  • 

Husband 

6-5 

Wife 

0-5 

Difference 

6 

II. 

Sub  and  supraordination 

•  • 

7 

— 

7 

III. 

Contrast  ^  . 

•  « 

— 

— 

— 

IV. 

Predicate  expressing  a 
judgment  . 

personal 
•  • 

8-5 

95*0 

86*5 

120  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


V. 

Simple  predicate  .... 

Husband 

21-0 

Wife 

3*5 

Difference 

17-5 

VI. 

Relations  of  the  verb  to  the  sub¬ 
ject  or  complement  . 

15*5 

0*5 

150 

VII. 

Designation  of  time,  etc. 

11-0 

11-0 

VIII. 

Definition 

11-0 

11*0 

IX. 

Coexistence  . 

1-5 

1*5 

X. 

Identity  .... 

0-5 

0-5 

Xi. 

Motor-speech  combination 

12-0 

12-0 

XII. 

Composition  of  words 

_ 

XIII. 

Completion  of  words 

_ m 

XIV. 

Clang  associations 

_____ 

XV. 

Defective  reactions 

— 

— 

— 

Total . 

- 

_ 

173‘5 

Average  difference 

1735 

11-5 

15 


As  can  be  seen  from  this  example,  I  utilise  the  difference  to 
demonstrate  the  degree  of  the  analogy.  In  order  to  find  a 
basis  for  the  sum  of  the  resemblance  I  have  calculated  the 
differences  among  all  Dr.  Fiirst’s  test-persons,  not  related 
among  themselves,  by  comparing  every  female  test-person 
with  all  the  other  unrelated  females  j  the  same  has  been  done 
for  the  male  test-persons. 

The  most  marked  difference  is  found  in  those  cases  where 
the  two  test-persons  compared  have  no  associative  quality  in 
common.  All  the  groups  are  calculated  in  precentages,  the 
greatest  difference  possible  being  ^  =  13*3  per  cent. 

L  The  average  difference  of  male  unrelated  test-persons  is 
5*9  per  cent.,  and  that  of  females  of  the  same  group  is  6  per 
cent. 

II.  The  average  difference  between  male  related  test- 
persons  is  4‘1  per  cent.,  and  that  between  female  related 
test-persons  is  3*8  per  cent.  From  these  numbers  we  see 
that  relatives  show  a  tendency  to  agreement  in  the  reaction 
type. 

III.  Difference  between  fathers  and  children  =  42. 

»  „  mothers  „  „  =  3*5. 

The  reaction  types  of  children  come  nearer  to  the  type  of 
the  mother  than  to  the  father. 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


121 


IV.  Difference  between  fathers  and  their  sons 

„  „  „  daughters 

mothers  ,,  ,,  sons 

daughters 


a 
>} 
5  » 


ff 


»» 


»> 


JJ 


ii 


3*1. 

4*9. 

4*7. 

3*0. 


Tracing  A. 


Fig.  11. 

father  ;  . mother  ;  ++++  daughter. 


I.  Assoc,  by  co-ordination ;  II.  sub  and  supraordination ;  III.  contrast,  etc. 
(see  previous  page). 


V.  Difference  between  brothers  =  4*7. 

„  ,,  sisters  =  5*1. 

If  the  married  sisters  are  omitted  from  the  comparison  we 
get  the  following  result : 

Difference  of  unmarried  sisters  =  3*8. 


122 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


These  observations  show  distinctly  that  marriage  destroys 
more  or  less  the  original  agreement,  as  the  husband  belongs 
to  a  different  type. 

Difference  between  unmarried  brothers  =  4*8. 

Marriage  seems  to  exert  no  influence  on  the  association 
forms  in  men.  Nevertheless,  the  material  which  we  have  at 
our  disposal  is  not  as  yet  enough  to  allow  us  to  draw  definite 
conclusions. 

VI.  Difference  between  husband  and  wife  =  4*7. 

This  number  sums  up  inadequately  the  different  and  very 


Fig.  12. 


Tracing  B.  - husband ;  . wife. 

unequal  values;  that  is  to  say,  there  are  some  cases  which  show 
extreme  difference  and  some  which  show  marked  concordance. 

The  different  results  are  shown  in  the  tracings  (Figs.  11-15). 

In  the  tracings  I  have  marked  the  number  of  associations 
of  each  quality  perpendicularly  in  percentages.  The  Roman 
letters  written  horizontally  represent  the  forms  of  association 
indicated  in  the  above  tables. 

Tracing  A.  The  father  (black  line)  shows  an  objective  type, 
while  the  mother  and  daughter  show  the  pure  predicate  type 
with  a  pronounced  subjective  tendency. 

Tracing  B.  The  husband  and  wife  agree  well  in  the 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


128 


predicate  objective  type,  the  predicate  subjective  being  some- 

what  more  numerous  in  the  wife. 

Tracing  C.  A  very  nice  agreement  between  a  father  and 

his  two  daughters. 


—— J- 

-i 

_ f- 

K 
+ 
f  A 

— 

*t  A 
♦  A 

1 

4 

L,rrr 

7  V 
/  V 

| 

- 4- 

*. 

t: 

t: 

A 

A 

fr 

\ 

1 - 

* 

u 

W 

-+hA — 

r 

til 

!il 

to - 

\\ 

“TT^T 

\\  * 
v\  % 

\\ 

\ 

u 

v — 

** 

\f 

A\ 

..-x 

N 

— 

►  ♦ 

VTVJ 

YV 

Fig.  13. 

Tracing  C.  - father ;  . 1st  daughter ;  ++++  2nd  daughter. 

Tracing  D.  Two  sisters  living  together.  The  dotted  line 
represents  the  married  sister. 


Tracing  E.  Husband  and  wife.  The  wife  is  a  sister  of  the 
two  women  of  tracing  D.  She  approaches  very  closely  to  the 
type  of  her  husband.  Her  tracing  is  the  direct  opposite  o 
that  of  her  sisters. 


124 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


Tracing  E.  - husband  ; . wife. 


The  similarity  of  the  associations  is  often  very  extra¬ 
ordinary.  I  will  reproduce  here  the  associations  of  a  mother 
and  daughter. 


Stimulus  Word. 

Mother. 

Daughter. 

to  pay  attention 

diligent  pupil 

pupil 

law 

command  of  God 

Moses 

dear 

child 

father  and  mother 

great 

God 

father 

potato 

bulbous  root 

bulbous  root 

family 

many  persons 

5  persons 

strange 

traveller 

traveller 

brother 

dear  to  me 

dear 

to  kiss 

mother 

mother 

burn 

great  pain 

painful 

door 

wide 

big 

hay 

dry 

dry 

month 

many  days 

31  days 

air 

cool 

moist 

coal 

sooty 

black 

fruit 

sweet 

sweet 

merry 

happy  child 

child 

One  might  indeed  think  that  in  this  experiment,  where  full 

scope  is  given  to  chance,  individuality  would  become  a  factor 
of  the  utmost  importance,  and  that  therefore  one  might  expect 
a  very  great  diversity  and  lawlessness  of  associations.  But 
as  we  see  the  opposite  is  the  case.  Thus  the  daughter  lives 
contentedly  in  the  same  circle  of  ideas  as  her  mother,  not 
only  in  her  thought  but  in  her  form  of  expression ;  indeed, 
she  even  uses  the  same  words.  What  could  be  regarded 
as  more  inconsequent,  inconstant,  and  lawless  than  a  fancy, 


125 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 

a  rapidly  passing  thought  ?  It  is  not  lawless,  however, 
neither  is  it  free,  but  closely  determined  within  the  limits 
of  the  milieu.  If,  therefore,  even  the  superficial  and  mani¬ 
festly  most  inconsequent  formations  of  the  intellect  are 
altogether  subject  to  the  milieu-constellation,  what  must  we 
not  expect  for  the  more  important  conditions  of  the  mind,  for 
the  emotions,  wishes,  hopes,  and  intentions  ?  Let  us  consider 
a  concrete  example,  illustrated  by  tracing  A. 

The  mother  is  45  years  old  and  the  daughter  16  years.  Both 
have  a  very  distinct  predicate  type  expressing  personal  judg¬ 
ment,  both  differ  from  the  father  in  the  most  striking  manner. 
The  father  is  a  drunkard  and  a  demoralised  creature.  We 
can  thus  readily  understand  that  his  wife  experiences  an  emo¬ 
tional  voidness  which  she  naturally  betrays  by  her  enhanced 
predicate  type.  The  same  causes  cannot,  however,  operate  in 
the  case  of  the  daughter,  for,  in  the  first  place,  she  is  not 
married  to  a  drunkard,  and,  in  the  second,  life  with  all  its  hopes 
and  promises  still  lies  before  her.  It  is  distinctly  unnatural 
for  the  daughter  to  show  an  extreme  predicate  type  express¬ 
ing  personal  judgment.  She  responds  to  the  stimuli  of  the 
environment  just  like  her  mother.  But  whereas  in  the  mother 
the  type  is  in  a  way  a  natural  consequence  of  her  unhappy  con¬ 
dition  of  life,  this  condition  is  entirely  lacking  in  the  daughter. 
The  daughter  simply  imitates  the  mother  ;  she  merely  appears 
like  the  mother.  Let  us  consider  what  this  can  signify  for  a 
young  girl.  If  a  young  girl  reacts  to  the  world  like  an  old 
woman,  disappointed  in  life,  this  at  once  shows  unnaturalness 
and  constraint.  But  more  serious  consequences  are  possible. 
As  you  know  the  predicate  type  is  a  manifestation  of  intensive 
emotions ;  the  emotions  are  always  involved.  Thus  we  cannot 
prevent  ourselves  from  responding  inwardly,  at  least,  to  the 
feelings  and  passions  of  our  immediate  environment ;  we  allow 
ourselves  to  be  infected  and  carried  away  by  it.  Originally 
the  effects  and  their  physical  manifestations  had  a  biological 
significance;  i.e.  they  were  a  protective  mechanism  for  the 
individual  and  the  whole  herd.  If  we  manifest  emotions,  we 
can  with  certainty  expect  to  receive  emotions  in  return.  That 
is  the  feeling  of  the  predicate  type.  What  the  45-year-old 


126 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


woman  lacks  in  emotions,  i.e.  in  love  in  her  marriage  relations 
she  seeks  to  obtain  in  the  outside  world,  and  for  that  reason 
she  is  an  ardent  participant  in  the  Christian  Science  move¬ 
ment.  If  the  daughter  imitates  this  situation  she  copies  her 
mother,  she  seeks  to  obtain  emotions  from  the  outside.  But 
for  a  girl  of  sixteen  such  an  emotional  state  is,  to  say  the  least, 
quite  dangerous ;  like  her  mother,  she  reacts  to  her  environ¬ 
ment  as  a  sufferer  soliciting  sympathy.  Such  an  emotional 
state  is  no  longer  dangerous  in  the  mother,  but  for  obvious 
reasons  it  is  quite  dangerous  in  the  daughter.  Once  freed 
from  her  father  and  mother  she  will  be  like  her  mother, 
i.e,  she  will  be  a  suffering  woman  craving  for  inner  gratifica¬ 
tion.  She  will  thus  be  exposed  to  the  great  danger  of  falling 
a  victim  to  brutality  and  of  marrying  a  brute  and  inebriate 
like  her  father. 

This  conception  is  of  importance  in  the  consideration  of 
the  influence  of  environment  and  education.  The  example 
shows  what  passes  over  from  the  mother  to  the  child.  It  is 
not  the  good  and  pious  precepts,  nor  is  it  any  other  inculca¬ 
tion  of  pedagogic  truths  that  have  a  moulding  influence  upon 
the  character  of  the  developing  child,  but  what  most  influences 
him  is  the  peculiarly  affective  state  which  is  totally  unknown 
to  his  parents  and  educators.  The  concealed  discord  between 
the  parents,  the  secret  worry,  the  repressed  hidden  wishes, 
all  these  produce  in  the  individual  a  certain  affective  state 
with  its  objective  signs  which  slowly  but  surely,  though 
unconsciously,  works  its  way  into  the  child’s  mind,  producing 
therein  the  same  conditions  and  hence  the  same  reactions  to 
external  stimuli.  We  know  the  depressing  effect  mournful  and 
melancholic  persons  have  upon  us.  A  restless  and  nervous 
individual  infects  his  surroundings  with  unrest  and  dissatis¬ 
faction,  a  grumbler  with  his  discontent,  etc.  Since  grown-up 
persons  are  so  sensitive  to  surrounding  influences,  we  should 
certainly  expect  this  to  be  even  more  noticeable  among 
children,  whose  minds  are  as  soft  and  plastic  as  wax.  The 
father  and  mother  impress  deeply  into  the  child’s  mind  the 
seal  of  their  personality ;  the  more  sensitive  and  mouldable 
the  child  the  deeper  is  the  impression.  Thus  things  that  are 


127 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 

never  even  spoken  about  are  reflected  in  the  child.  The  child 
imitates  the  gesture,  and  just  as  the  gesture  of  the  parent  is 
the  expression  of  an  emotional  state,  so  in  turn  the  gesture 
gradually  produces  in  the  child  a  similar  feeling,  as  it  fee  s 
itself,  so  to  speak,  into  the  gesture.  Just  as  the  parents  adapt 
themselves  to  the  world,  so  does  the  child.  At  the  age  ot 
puberty  when  it  begins  to  free  itself  from  the  spell  of  the 
family,  it  enters  into  life  with,  so  to  say,  a  surface  adaptation 
entirely  in  keeping  with  that  of  the  father  and  mother.  The 
frequent  and  often  very  deep  depressions  of  puberty  emanate 
from  this  ;  they  are  symptoms  which  are  rooted  in  the  diru- 
culty  of  new  adjustment.  The  youthful  person  at  first  tries 
to  separate  himself  as  much  as  possible  from  his  family ;  he 
may  even  estrange  himself  from  it,  but  inwardly  this  only  ties 
him  the  more  firmly  to  the  parental  image.  I  cite  the  case 
of  a  young  neurotic  who  ran  away  from  his  parents  ;  lie  was 
estranged  from,  and  almost  hostile  to  them,  but  he  admitted 
to  me  that  he  possessed  a  special  sanctum ;  it  was  a  strong 
L  containing^  bis  oil  childhood  books,  old  dried  do...,, 
stones,  and  even  small  bottles  of  water  from  the  well  at  his 
home  and  from  a  river  along  which  he  walked  with  his 

parents,  etc. 

The  first  attempts  to  assume  friendship  and  love  are 
constellated  in  the  strongest  manner  possible  by  the  relation 
to  parents,  and  here  one  can  usually  observe  how  powerful 
are  the  influences  of  the  familiar  constellations.  It  is  not 
rare,  for  instance,  for  a  healthy  man  whose  mother  was 
hysterical  to  marry  a  hysteric,  or  for  the  daughter  of  an 
alcoholic  to  choose  an  alcoholic  for  her  husband.  I  was  once 
consulted  by  an  intelligent  and  educated  young  woman  of 
twenty-six  who  suffered  from  a  peculiar  symptom.  She 
thought  that  her  eyes  now  and  then  took  on  a  strange 
expression  which  exerted  a  disagreeable  influence  on  men. 
If  she  then  looked  at  a  man  he  became  self-conscious,  turned 
away  and  said  something  rapidly  to  his  neighbour,  at  which 
both  were  either  embarrassed  or  inclined  to  laugh.  The 
patient  was  convinced  that  her  look  excited  indecent  thoughts 
in  the  men.  It  was  impossible  to  convince  her  of  the  falsity 


128 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


of  her  conviction.  This  symptom  immediately  aroused  in  me 
the  suspicion  that  I  dealt  with  a  case  of  paranoia  rather  than 
with  a  neurosis.  But  as  was  shown  only  three  days  later  by 
the  further  course  of  the  treatment,  I  was  mistaken,  for  the 
symptom  promptly  disappeared  after  it  had  been  explained 
by  analysis.  It  originated  ‘in  the  following  manner :  The 
lady  had  a  lover  who  deserted  her  in  a  very  marked  manner. 
She  felt  utterly  forsaken ;  she  withdrew  from  all  society  and 
pleasure,  and  entertained  suicidal  ideas.  In  her  seclusion 
theie  accumulated  unadmitted  and  repressed  erotic  wishes 
which  she  unconsciously  projected  on  men  whenever  she  was 
in  their  company.  This  gave  rise  to  the  conviction  that  her 
look  excited  erotic  wishes  in  men.  Further  investigation 
showed  that  her  deserting  lover  was  a  lunatic,  which  she 
had  not  apparently  observed.  I  expressed  my  surprise  at 
her  unsuitable  choice,  and  added  that  she  must  have  had 
a  certain  predilection  for  loving  mentally  abnormal  persons. 
This  she  denied,  stating  that  she  had  once  before  been  engaged 
to  be  married  to  a  normal  man.  He,  too,  deserted  her ;  and 
on  further  investigation  it  was  found  that  he,  too,  had  been 
in  an  insane  asylum  shortly  before,— another  lunatic !  This 
seemed  to  me  to  confirm  with  sufficient  certainty  my  belief 
that  she  had  an  unconscious  tendency  to  choose  insane 
persons.  Whence  originated  this  strange  taste  ?  Her  father 
was  an  eccentric  character,  and  in  later  years  entirely  estranged 
from  his  family.  Her  whole  love  had  therefore  been  turned 
away  from  her  father  to  a  brother  eight  years  her  senior  ;  him 
she  loved  and  honoured  as  a  father,  and  this  brother  became 
hopelessly  insane  at  the  age  of  fourteen.  That  was  apparently 
the  model  from  which  the  patient  could  never  free  herself, 
after  which  she  chose  her  lovers,  and  through  which  she  had 
to  become  unhappy.  Her  neurosis  which  gave  the  impression 
of  insanity,  probably  originated  from  this  infantile  model. 
We  must  take  into  consideration  that  we  are  dealing  in  this 
case  with  a  highly  educated  and  intelligent  lady,  who  did  not 
pass  carelessly  over  her  mental  experiences,  who  indeed  re¬ 
flected  much  over  her  unhappiness,  without,  however,  having 
any  idea  whence  her  misfortune  originated. 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


129 


These  are  things  which  unconsciously  appear  to  us  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  it  is  for  this  reason  that  we  do  not  see 
them  truly,  but  attribute  everything  to  the  so-called  congenital 
character.  I  could  cite  any  number  of  examples  of  this  kind. 
Every  patient  furnishes  contributions  to  this  subject  of  the 
determination  of  destiny  through  the  influence  of  the  familiar 
milieu.  In  every  neurotic  we  see  how  the  constellation  of 
the  infantile  milieu  influences  not  only  the  character  of  the 
neurosis,  but  also  life’s  destiny,  even  in  its  minute  details. 
The  unhappy  choice  of  a  profession,  and  innumerable  matri¬ 
monial  failures  can  be  traced  to  this  constellation.  There 
are,  however,  cases  where  the  profession  has  been  well 
chosen,  where  the  husband  or  wife  leaves  nothing  to  be 
desired,  and  where  still  the  person  does  not  feel  well  but 
works  and  lives  under  constant  difficulties.  Such  cases  often 
appear  under  the  guise  of  chronic  neurasthenia.  Here  the 
difficulty  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  mind  is  unconsciously 
split  into  two  parts  of  divergent  tendencies  which  are  im¬ 
peding  each  other ;  one  part  lives  with  the  husband  or  with 
the  profession,  while  the  other  lives  unconsciously  in  the 
past  with  the  father  or  mother.  I  have  treated  a  lady  who, 
after  suffering  many  years  from  a  severe  neurosis,  merged 
into  a  dementia  praecox.  The  neurotic  affection  began  with 
her  marriage.  This  lady’s  husband  was  kind,  educated,  well 
to  do,  and  in  every  respect  suitable  for  her ;  his  character 
showed  nothing  that  would  in  any  way  interfere  with  a  happy 
marriage.  The  marriage  was  nevertheless  unhappy,  all  con¬ 
genial  companionship  being  excluded  because  the  wife  was 
neurotic. 

The  important  heuristic  axiom  of  every  psychoanalysis 
reads  as  follows  :  If  a  person  develops  a  neurosis  this  neurosis 
contains  the  counter-argument  against  the  relation  of  the  patient 
to  the  individual  with  whom  he  is  most  intimately  connected. 
A  neurosis  in  the  husband  loudly  proclaims  that  he  has 
intensive  resistances  and  contrary  tendencies  against  his  wife ; 
if  the  wife  has  a  neurosis  she  has  a  tendency  which  diverges 
from  her  husband.  If  the  person  is  unmarried  the  neurosis 
is  then  directed  against  the  lover  or  the  sweetheart  or  against 

9 


130 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


the  parents.  Every  neurotic  naturally  strives  against  this 
relentless  formulation  of  the  content  of  his  neurosis,  and  he 
often  refuses  to  recognise  it  at  any  cost,  but  still  it  is  always 
justified.  To  be  sure,  the  conflict  is  not  on  the  surface,  but 
must  generally  be  revealed  through  a  painstaking  psycho¬ 
analysis. 

The  history  of  our  patient  reads  as  follows  : 

The  father  had  a  powerful  personality.  She  was  his 
favourite  daughter,  and  entertained  for  him  a  boundless 
veneration.  At  the  age  of  seventeen  she  for  the  first  time 
fell  in  love  with  a  young  man.  At  that  time  she  twice 
dreamt  the  same  dream,  the  impression  of  which  never 
left  her  in  all  her  later  years ;  she  even  imputed  a  mystic 
significance  to  it,  and  often  recalled  it  with  religious  dread. 
In  the  dream  she  saw  a  tall,  masculine  figure  with  a  very 
beautiful  white  beard;  at  this  sight  she  was  permeated 
with  a  feeling  of  awe  and  delight  as  if  she  experienced  the 
presence  of  God  Himself.  This  dream  made  the  deepest 
impression  on  her,  and  she  was  constrained  to  think  of  it 
again  and  again.  The  love  affair  of  that  period  proved  to 
be  one  of  little  warmth,  and  was  soon  given  up.  Later  the 
patient  married  her  present  husband.  Though  she  loved  her 
husband  she  was  led  continually  to  compare  him  with  her 
deceased  father;  this  comparison  always  proved  unfavourable 
to  her  husband.  Whatever  the  husband  said,  intended,  or 
did,  was  subjected  to  this  standard  and  always  with  the  same 
result :  “  My  father  would  have  done  all  this  better  and  differ¬ 
ently.”  Our  patient’s  life  with  her  husband  was  not  happy, 
she  could  neither  respect  nor  love  him  sufficiently ;  she  was 
inwardly  dissatisfied.  She  gradually  developed  a  fervent 
piety,  and  at  the  same  time  violent  hysterical  symptoms 
supervened.  She  began  by  going  into  raptures  now  over  this 
and  now  over  that  clergyman;  she  was  looking  everywhere 
for  a  spiritual  friend,  and  estranged  herself  more  and  more 
from  her  husband.  The  mental  trouble  manifested  itself 
about  ten  years  after  marriage.  In  her  diseased  state  she 
refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with  her  husband  and  child ; 
she  imagined  herself  pregnant  by  another  man.  In  brief,  the 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


181 


resistances  against  her  husband,  which  hitherto  had  been 
laboriously  repressed,  came  out  quite  openly,  and  among 
other  things  manifested  themselves  in  insults  of  the  gravest 
kind  directed  against  him. 

In  this  case  we  see  how  a  neurosis  appeared,  as  it  were,  at 
the  moment  of  marriage,  i.e.  this  neurosis  expresses  the  counter¬ 
argument  against  the  husband.  What  is  the  counter-argument  ? 
The  counter-argument  is  the  father  of  the  patient,  for  she 
verified  her  belief  daily  that  her  husband  was  not  the  equal 
of  her  father.  When  the  patient  first  fell  in  love  there  had 
appeared  a  symptom  in  the  form  of  an  extremely  impressive 
dream  or  vision.  She  saw  the  man  with  the  very  beautiful 
white  beard.  Who  was  this  man  ?  On  directing  her  attention 
to  the  beautiful  white  beard  she  immediately  recognised  the 
phantom.  It  was  of  course  her  father.  Thus  every  time  the 
patient  merged  into  a  love  affair  the  picture  of  her  father 
inopportunely  appeared  and  prevented  her  from  adjusting 
herself  psychologically  to  her  husband. 

I  purposely  chose  this  case  as  an  illustration  because  it  is 
simple,  obvious,  and  quite  typical  of  many  marriages  which 
are  crippled  through  the  neurosis  of  the  wife.  The  cause  of 
the  unhappiness  always  lies  in  a  too  firm  attachment  to  the 
parents.  The  infantile  relationship  has  not  been  given  up. 
We  find  here  one  of  the  most  important  tasks  of  pedagogy, 
namely,  the  solution  of  the  problem  how  to  free  the  growing 
individual  from  his  unconscious  attachments  to  the  influences 
of  the  infantile  milieu,  in  such  a  manner  that  he  may  retain 
whatever  there  is  in  it  that  is  suitable  and  reject  whatever 
is  unsuitable.  To  solve  this  difficult  question  on  the  part  of 
the  child  seems  to  me  impossible  at  present.  We  know  as  yet 
too  little  about  the  child’s  emotional  processes.  The  first  and 
only  real  contribution  to  the  literature  on  this  subject  has  in 
fact  appeared  during  the  present  year.  It  is  the  analysis  of  a 
five-year-old  boy  published  by  Freud. 

The  difficulties  on  the  part  of  the  child  are  very  great. 
They  should  not,  however,  be  so  great  on  the  part  of  the 
parents.  In  many  ways  the  parents  could  manage  the  love 
of  children  more  carefully,  more  indulgently,  and  more 


182 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


intelligently.  The  sins  committed  against  favourite  children 
by  the  undue  love  of  the  parents  could  perhaps  be  avoided 
through  a  wider  knowledge  of  the  child’s  mind.  For  many 
reasons  I  find  it  impossible  to  say  anything  of  general  validity 
concerning  the  bringing  up  of  children  as  it  is  affected  by  this 
problem.  We  are  as  yet  very  far  from  general  prescriptions 
and  rules;  indeed  we  are  still  in  the  realm  of  casuistry. 
Unfortunately,  our  knowledge  of  the  finer  mental  processes 
in  the  child  is  so  meagre  that  we  are  not  yet  in  any  position 
to  say  where  the  greatest  trouble  lies,  whether  in  the  parents, 
in  the  child,  or  in  the  conception  of  the  milieu.  Only  psycho¬ 
analyses  of  the  kind  that  Professor  Freud  has  published  in 
the  Jahrbuch ,  1909, 1  will  help  us  out  of  this  difficulty.  Such 
comprehensive  and  profound  observations  should  act  as  a 
strong  inducement  to  all  teachers  to  occupy  themselves  with 
Freud’s  psychology.  This  psychology  offers  more  values  for 
practical  pedagogy  than  the  physiological  psychology  of  the 
present. 


Lecture  III 

EXPERIENCES  CONCERNING  THE  PSYCHIC  LIFE  OF  THE  CHILD  2 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen  :  In  our  last  lecture  we  saw  how 
important  the  emotional  processes  of  childhood  aie  for  latei 
life.  In  to-day’s  lecture  I  should  like  to  give  you  some 
insight  into  the  psychic  life  of  the  child  through  the  analysis 
of  a  four-year-old  girl.  It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  there 
are  few  among  you  who  have  had  the  opportunity  of  reading 
the  analysis  of  “Little  Hans”  (. Kleiner  Hans),  which  was 
published  by  Freud  during  the  current  year.1  I  ought  to 
begin  by  giving  you  the  content  of  that  analysis,  so  that  you 
might  be  in  a  position  to  compare  Freud’s  results  with  those 
obtained  by  me,  and  observe  the  marked,  and  astonishing 
similarity  between  the  unconscious  creations  of  the  two 

1  “  Jahrbuch  fur  Psychoanalytische  und  Psychopathologische  For- 

schungen,”  Band  I.  Deuticke,  Wien,  1902. 

2  This  lecture  was  originally  published  in  the  “Jahrbuch  fur  Psycho¬ 
analytische  und  Psychopathologische  Forschungen,”  Band  II. 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


IBB 


children.  Without  a  knowledge  of  the  fundamental  analysis 
of  Freud,  much  in  the  report  of  the  following  case  will 
appear  strange,  incomprehensible,  and  perhaps  unacceptable 
to  you.  I  beg  you,  however,  to  defer  your  final  judgment 
and  to  enter  upon  the  consideration  of  these  new  subjects 
with  a  kindly  disposition,  for  such  pioneer  work  in  virgin 
soil  requires  not  only  the  greatest  patience  on  the  part  of  the 
investigator,  but  also  the  unprejudiced  attention  of  his 
audience.  Because  the  Freudian  investigations  apparently 
involve  a  discussion  of  the  most  intimate  secrets  of  sexuality 
many  people  have  had  a  feeling  of  repulsion  against  them, 
and  have  therefore  rejected  everything  as  a  matter  of  course 
without  any  real  disproof.  This,  unfortunately,  has  almost 
always  been  the  fate  of  Freud’s  doctrines  up  to  the  present. 
One  must  not  come  to  the  consideration  of  these  matters  with 
the  firm  conviction  that  they  do  not  exist,  for  it  may  easily 
happen  that  for  the  prejudiced  they  really  do  not  exist.  One 
should  perhaps  assume  the  author’s  point  of  view  for  the 
moment  and  investigate  these  phenomena  under  his  guidance. 
Only  in  this  way  can  the  correctness  or  otherwise  of  our 
observations  be  affirmed.  We  may  err,  as  all  human  beings 
err.  But  the  continual  holding  up  to  us  of  our  mistakes — 
perhaps  they  are  worse  than  mistakes — does  not  help  us  to 
see  things  more  distinctly.  We  should  prefer  to  see  wherein 
we  err.  That  should  be  demonstrated  to  us  in  our  own 
sphere  of  experience.  Thus  far,  however,  no  one  has 
succeeded  in  meeting  us  on  our  own  ground,  nor  in  giving  us 
a  different  conception  of  the  things  which  we  ourselves  see. 
We  still  have  to  complain  that  our  critics  persist  in  main¬ 
taining  complete  ignorance  about  the  matters  in  question. 
The  only  reason  for  this  is  that  they  have  never  taken  the 
trouble  to  become  thoroughly  acquainted  with  our  method ; 
had  they  done  this  they  would  have  understood  us. 

The  little  girl  to  whose  sagacity  and  intellectual  vivacity 
we  are  indebted  for  the  following  observations  is  a  healthy, 
lively  child  of  emotional  temperament.  She  has  never  been 
seriously  ill,  and  never,  even  in  the  realm  of  the  nervous 
system,  had  there  been  observed  any  symptoms  prior  to  this 


134 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


investigation.  In  the  report  which  follows  we  shall  have  to 
waive  any  connected  description,  for  it  is  made  up  of  anecdotes 
which  treat  of  one  experience  out  of  a  whole  cycle  of  similar 
ones,  and  which  cannot,  therefore,  be  arranged  scientifically 
and  systematically,  but  must  rather  be  described  somewhat 
in  the  form  of  a  story.  We  cannot  as  yet  dispense  with  this 
manner  of  description  in  our  analytical  psychology,  for  we 
are  still  far  from  being  able  in  all  cases  to  separate  with 
unerring  certainty  what  is  curious  from  what  is  typical. 

When  the  little  daughter,  whom  we  will  call  Anna,  was 
about  three  years  old,  she  once  had  the  following  conversation 
with  her  grandmother  : 

Anna  :  “  Grandma,  why  are  your  eyes  so  dim  ?  ” 

Grandma  :  “Because  I  am  old.” 

A. :  “  But  you  will  become  young  again.” 

G, :  “  No,  do  you  know,  I  shall  become  older  and  older, 
and  then  I  shall  die.” 

A. :  “  Well,  and  then  ?  ” 

G. :  “  Then  I  shall  be  an  angel.” 

A. :  “  And  then  will  you  be  a  little  baby  again  ?  ” 

The  child  found  here  a  welcome  opportunity  for  the 
provisional  solution  of  a  problem.  For  some  time  before  she 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  asking  her  mother  whether  she 
would  ever  have  a  living  doll,  a  little  child,  a  little  brother. 
This  naturally  included  the  question  as  to  the  origin  of 
children.  As  such  questions  appeared  only  spontaneously 
and  indirectly,  the  parents  attached  no  significance  to  them, 
but  responded  to  them  as  lightly  and  in  appearance  as  care¬ 
lessly  as  the  child  seemed  to  ask  them.  Thus  she  once 
received  from  her  father  the  pretty  story  that  children  are 
brought  by  the  stork.  Anna  had  already  heard  somewhere  a 
more  serious  version,  namely,  that  children  are  little  angels 
living  in  heaven,  and  are  brought  from  heaven  by  the  stork. 
This  theory  seems  to  have  become  the  starting  point  for  the 
investigating  activity  of  the  little  one.  From  the  conversa¬ 
tion  with  the  grandmother  it  could  be  seen  that  this  theory 
w7as  capable  of  wide  application,  namely,  it  not  only  solved 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


135 


in  a  comforting  manner  the  painful  idea  of  parting  and 
dying,  but  at  the  same  time  also  the  riddle  of  the  origin  of 
children.  Such  solutions  which  kill  at  least  two  birds  with 
one  stone  were  formerly  tenaciously  adhered  to  in  science, 
and  cannot  be  removed  from  the  mind  of  the  child  without 
a  certain  amount  of  shock. 

Just  as  the  birth  of  a  little  sister  was  the  turning  point  in 
the  history  of  “Little  Hans,”  so  in  this  case  it  was  the  biith 
of  a  brother,  which  happened  wrhen  Anna  had  reached  the 
age  of  four  years.  The  pregnancy  of  the  mother  apparently 
remained  unnoticed ;  i.e.  the  child  never  expressed  herself 
on  this  subject.  On  the  evening  before  the  birth,  when  labour 
pains  were  beginning,  the  child  was  in  her  father  s  room. 
He  took  her  on  his  knee  and  said,  “  Tell  me,  what  would  you 
say  if  you  should  get  a  little  brother  to-night  ?  ”  “I  would 
kill  him  ”  was  the  prompt  answer.  The  expression  “  to  kill  ” 
looks  very  serious,  but  in  reality  it  is  quite  harmless,  for  “  to 
kill  ”  and  “  to  die  ”  in  child  language  signify  only  to  remove, 
either  in  the  active  or  in  the  passive  sense,  as  has  already 
been  pointed  out  a  number  of  times  by  Freud.  “  To  kill  ”  as 
used  by  the  child  is  a  harmless  word,  especially  so  when  we 
know  that  the  child  uses  the  word  “  kill  ”  quite  promiscuously 
for  all  possible  kinds  of  destruction,  removal,  demolition,  etc. 
It  is,  nevertheless,  worth  while  to  note  this  tendency  (see  the 
analysis  of  Kleiner  Hans ,  p.  5). 

The  birth  occurred  early  in  the  morning,  and  later  the 
father  entered  the  room  where  Anna  slept.  She  awoke  as  he 
came  in.  He  imparted  to  her  the  news  of  the  advent  of  a 
little  brother,  which  she  took  with  surprise  and  strained  facial 
expression.  The  father  took  her  in  his  arms  and  carried  her 
into  the  lying-in  room.  She  first  threw  a  rapid  glance  at 
her  somewhat  pale  mother  and  then  displayed  something  like 
a  mixture  of  embarrassment  and  suspicion  as  if  thinking, 
“Now  what  else  is  going  to  happen?”  (Father’s  impression.) 
She  displayed  hardly  any  pleasure  at  the  sight  of  the  new 
arrival,  so  that  the  cool  reception  she  gave  it  caused  general 
disappointment.  During  the  forenoon  she  kept  very  notice¬ 
ably  away  from  her  mother ;  this  was  the  more  striking  as 


136 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


she  was  usually  much  attached  to  her.  But  once  when  her 
mother  was  alone  she  ran  into  the  room,  embraced  her  and 
said,  “Well,  aren’t  you  going  to  die  now?”  Now  a  part  of 
the  conflict  in  the  child’s  psyche  is  revealed  to  us.  Though 
the  stork  theory  was  never  really  taken  seriously,  she 
accepted  the  fruitful  re-birth  hypothesis,  according  to  which 
a  person  by  dying  helps  a  child  into  life.  Accordingly  the 
mother,  too,  must  die  ;  why,  then,  should  the  newborn  child, 
against  whom  she  already  felt  childish  jealousy,  cause  her 
pleasure  ?  It  was  for  this  reason  that  she  had  to  seek  a 
favourable  opportunity  of  reassuring  herself  as  to  whether 
the  mother  was  to  die,  or  rather  was  moved  to  express  the 
hope  that  she  would  not  die. 

With  this  happy  issue,  however,  the  re-birth  theory  sus¬ 
tained  a  severe  shock.  How  was  it  possible  now  to  explain 
the  birth  of  her  little  brother  and  the  origin  of  children  in 
general?  There  still  remained  the  stork  theory  which, 
though  never  expressly  rejected,  had  been  implicitly  waived 
through  the  assumption  of  the  re-birth  theory.  The  explana¬ 
tions  next  attempted  unfortunately  remained  hidden  from 
the  parents  as  the  child  went  to  stay  with  her  grandmother 
for  a  few  weeks.  From  the  latter’s  report  the  stork  theory 
was  often  discussed,  and  was  naturally  reinforced  by  the 
concurrence  of  those  about  her. 

When  Anna  returned  to  her  parents,  she  again,  on  meeting 
her  mother,  evinced  the  same  mixture  of  embarrassment  and 
suspicion  which  she  had  displayed  after  the  birth.  The 
impression,  though  inexplicable,  was  quite  unmistakable  to 
both  parents.  Her  behaviour  towards  the  baby  was  very 
nice.  During  her  absence  a  nurse  had  come  into  the  house 
who,  on  account  of  her  uniform,  made  a  deep  impression  on 
Anna ;  to  be  sure,  the  impression  at  first  was  quite  unfavour¬ 
able  as  she  evinced  the  greatest  hostility  to  her.  Thus 
nothing  could  induce  her  to  allow  herself  to  be  undressed 
and  put  to  sleep  by  this  nurse.  Whence  this  resistance 
originated  was  soon  shown  in  an  angry  scene  near  the  cradle 
of  the  little  brother  in  which  Anna  shouted  at  the  nurse, 
“This  is  not  your  little  brother,  he  is  mine!”  Gradually, 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD  137 

however,  she  became  reconciled  to  the  nurse,  and  began  to 
play  nurse  herself ;  she  had  to  have  her  white  cap  and  apron, 
and  “  nursed  ”  now  her  little  brother,  and  now  her  doll. 

In  contrast  to  her  former  mood  she  became  unmistakably 
mournful  and  dreamy.  She  often  sat  for  a  long  time  under 
the  table  singing  stories  and  making  rhymes,  which  weie 
partially  incomprehensible  but  sometimes  contained  the 
“  nurse  ”  theme  (“  I  am  a  nurse  of  the  green  cross  ”)•  Some 
of  the  stories,  however,  distinctly  showed  a  painful  feeling 
striving  for  expression. 

Here  we  meet  with  a  new  and  important  feature  in  the 
little  one’s  life  :  that  is,  we  meet  with  reveries,  even  a  tendency 
towards  poetic  fancies  and  melancholic  attacks.  All  of  them 
things  which  we  are  wont  first  to  encounter  at  a  later  period 
of  life,  at  a  time  when  the  youth  or  maiden  is  preparing  to 
sever  the  family  tie  and  to  enter  independently  upon  life,  but 
is  still  held  back  by  an  inward,  painful  feeling  of  homesickness 
for  the  warmth  of  the  parental  hearth.  At  such  a  time  the 
youth  begins  to  replace  what  is  lacking  with  poetic  fancies 
in  order  to  compensate  for  the  deficiency.  To  approximate 
the  psychology  of  a  four-year-old  child  to  that  of  the  youth 
approaching  puberty  will  at  first  sight  seem  paradoxical,  the 
relationship  lies,  however,  not  in  the  age  but  rather  in  the 
mechanism.  The  elegiac  reveries  express  the  fact  that  a  part 
of  that  love  which  formerly  belonged,  and  should  belong,  to  a 
real  object,  is  now  introverted,  that  is,  it  is  turned  inward  into 
the  subject  and  there  produces  an  increased  imaginative 
activity.  What  is  the  origin  of  this  introversion  ?  Is  it  a 
psychological  manifestation  peculiar  to  this  age,  or  does  it 
owe  its  origin  to  a  conflict  ? 

This  is  explained  in  the  following  occurrence.  It  often 
happened  that  Anna  was  disobedient  to  her  mother,  she  was 
insolent,  saying,  “  I  am  going  back  to  grandma.  ’ 

Mother :  “  But  I  shall  be  sad  when  you  leave  me. 

Anna  :  “Oh,  but  you  have  my  little  brother.  ’ 

This  reaction  towards  the  mother  shows  what  the  little 
one  was  really  aiming  at  with  her  threats  to  go  away  again , 
she  apparently  wished  to  hear  what  her  mother  would  say  to 


138 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


her  proposal,  that  is,  to  see  what  attitude  her  mother  would 
actually  assume  to  her,  whether  her  little  brother  had  not 
ousted  her  altogether  from  her  mother’s  regard.  One  must, 
however,  give  no  credence  to  this  little  trickster.  For  the 
child  could  readily  see  and  feel  that,  despite  the  existence 
of  the  little  brother,  there  was  nothing  essentially  lacking 
to  her  in  her  mother’s  love.  The  reproach  to  which  she 
subjects  her  mother  is  therefore  unjustified,  and  to  the  trained 
ear  this  is  betrayed  by  a  slightly  affected  tone.  Such  an 
unmistakable  tone  does  not  expect  to  be  taken  seriously  and 
hence  it  obtrudes  itself  more  vehemently.  The  reproach  as 
such  cannot  be  taken  seriously  by  the  mother,  for  it  was  only 
the  forerunner  of  other  and  this  time  more  serious  resistances. 
Not  long  after  the  conversation  narrated  above,  the  following 
scene  took  place : 

Mother  :  “  Come,  we  are  going  into  the  garden  now !  ” 

Anna :  “  You  are  telling  lies,  take  care  if  you  are  not 
telling  the  truth.” 

M. :  “  What  are  you  thinking  of  ?  I  am  telling  the 
truth.” 

A. :  “  No,  you  are  not  telling  the  truth.” 

M. :  “  You  will  soon  see  that  I  am  telling  the  truth  :  we 
are  going  into  the  garden  now.” 

A. :  “  Indeed,  is  that  true  ?  Is  that  really  true  ?  Are 
you  not  lying  ?  ” 

Scenes  of  this  kind  were  repeated  a  number  of  times. 
This  time  the  tone  was  more  rude  and  more  vehement,  and 
at  the  same  time  the  accent  on  the  word  “lie”  betrayed 
something  special  which  the  parents  did  not  understand; 
indeed,  at  first  they  attributed  too  little  significance  to  the 
spontaneous  utterances  of  the  child.  In  this  they  merely 
did  what  education  usually  does  in  general,  ex  officio .  We 
usually  pay  little  heed  to  children  in  every  stage  of  life ;  in  all 
essential  matters,  they  are  treated  as  not  responsible,  and  in 
all  unessential  matters,  they  are  trained  with  an  automatic 
precision. 

Under  resistances  there  always  lies  a  question,  a  conflict, 
of  which  we  hear  later  and  on  other  occasions.  But  usually 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


189 


one  forgets  to  connect  the  thing  heard  with  the  resistances. 
Thus,  on  another  occasion,  Anna  put  to  her  mother  the 
following  questions : — 

Anna :  “  I  should  like  to  become  a  nurse  when  I  grow 
big — why  did  you  not  become  a  nurse  ?  ” 

Mother:  “Why,  as  I  have  become  a  mother  I  have 
children  to  nurse  anyway.” 

A.  (Reflecting) :  “  Indeed,  shall  I  be  a  lady  like  you,  and 
shall  I  talk  to  you  then  ?  ” 

The  mother’s  answer  again  shows  whither  the  child’s 
question  was  really  directed.  Apparently  Anna,  too,  would 
like  to  have  a  child  to  “  nurse  ”  just  as  the  nurse  has.  Where 
the  nurse  got  the  little  child  is  quite  clear.  Anna,  too,  could 
get  a  child  in  the  same  way  if  she  were  big.  Why  did  not 
the  mother  become  such  a  nurse,  that  is  to  say,  how  did  she 
get  a  child  if  not  in  the  same  way  as  the  nurse  ?  Like  the 
nurse,  Anna,  too,  could  get  a  child,  but  how  that  fact  might  be 
changed  in  the  future  or  how  she  might  come  to  resemble  her 
mother  in  the  matter  of  getting  children  is  not  clear  to  her. 
From  this  resulted  the  thoughtful  question,  “Indeed,  shall  I 
be  a  lady  like  you  ?  Shall  I  be  quite  different  ?  ”  The  stork 
theory  evidently  had  come  to  naught,  the  dying  theory  met 
a  similar  fate ;  hence  she  now  thinks  one  may  get  a  child  in 
the  same  way,  as,  for  example,  the  nurse  got  hers.  She,  too, 
could  get  one  in  this  natural  way,  but  how  about  the  mother 
who  is  no  nurse  and  still  has  children  ?  Looking  at  the 
matter  from  this  point  of  view,  Anna  asks :  “  Why  did  you 
not  become  a  nurse  ?  ”  namely,  “  why  have  you  not  got  your 
child  in  the  natural  way  ?  ”  This  peculiar  indirect  manner 
of  questioning  is  typical,  and  evidently  corresponds  with  the 
child’s  hazy  grasp  of  the  problem,  unless  we  assume  a  certain 
diplomatic  uncertainty  prompted  by  a  desire  to  evade  direct 
questioning.  We  shall  later  find  an  illustration  of  this  possi¬ 
bility.  Anna  is  evidently  confronted  with  the  question  “Where 
does  the  child  come  from  ?  ”  The  stork  did  not  bring  it ; 
mother  did  not  die  ;  nor  did  mother  get  it  in  the  same  way  as 
the  nurse.  She  has,  however,  asked  this  question  before  and 
received  the  information  from  her  father  that  the  stork  brings 


140 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


children ;  this  is  positively  untrue,  she  can  never  be  deceived 
on  this  point.  Accordingly,  papa  and  mama  and  all  the 
others  lie.  This  readily  explains  her  suspicion  at  the  child¬ 
birth  and  her  discrediting  of  her  mother.  But  it  also  explains 
another  point,  namely,  the  elegiac  reveries  which  we  have 
attributed  to  a  partial  introversion.  We  know  now  wbat  was 
the  real  object  from  which  love  was  removed  and  uselessly 
introverted,  namely,  it  had  to  be  taken  from,  the  parents  who 
deceived  her  and  refused  to  tell  her  the  truth.  (What  can 
this  be  which  must  not  be  uttered  ?  What  is  going  on  here  ?) 
Such  were  the  parenthetic  questions  of  the  child,  and  the 
answer  was  :  Evidently  this  must  be  something  to  be  con¬ 
cealed,  perhaps  something  dangerous.  Attempts  to  make  her 
talk  and  to  draw  out  the  truth  by  means  of  artful  questions 
were  futile,  so  resistance  is  placed  against  resistance ,  and  the 
introversion  of  love  begins.  It  is  evident  that  the  capacity 
for  sublimation  in  a  four-year-old  child  is  still  too  slightly 
developed  to  be  capable  of  performing  more  than  symptomatic 
services.  The  mind,  therefore,  depends  on  another  compensa¬ 
tion,  namely,  it  resorts  to  one  of  the  relinquished  infantile 
devices  for  securing  love  by  force,  preferably  that  of  crying  and 
calling  the  mother  at  night.  This  had  been  diligently  practised 
and  exhausted  during  her  first  year.  It  now  returns,  and  corre¬ 
sponding  to  the  period  of  life  has  become  well  determined  and 
equipped  with  recent  impressions.  It  was  just  after  the  earth¬ 
quakes  in  Messina,  and  this  event  was  discussed  at  the  table. 
Anna  was  extremely  interested  in  everything,  she  repeatedly 
asked  her  grandmother  to  tell  her  how  the  earth  shook,  how 
the  houses  fell  in  and  many  people  lost  their  lives.  After  this 
she  had  nocturnal  fears,  she  could  not  be  alone,  her  mother 
had  to  go  to  her  and  stay  with  her  ;  otherwise  she  feared  that 
an  earthquake  would  happen,  that  the  house  would  fall  and 
kill  her.  During  the  day,  too,  she  was  much  occupied  with 
such  thoughts.  While  walking  with  her  mother  she  annoyed 
her  with  such  questions  as,  “  Will  the  house  be  standing  when 
we  return  home  ?  Are  you  sure  there  is  no  earthquake  at 
home  ?  Will  papa  still  be  living  ?  ”  About  every  stone  lying 
in  the  road  she  asked  whether  it  was  from  an  earthquake.  A 


141 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 

building  in  course  of  erection  was  a  house  destroyed  by  the 
earthquake,  etc.  Finally,  she  began  to  cry  out  frequently  at 
night  that  the  earthquake  was  coming  and  that  she  heard  the 
thunder.  Each  evening  she  had  to  be  solemnly  assured  that 

there  was  no  earthquake  coming. 

Many  means  of  calming  her  were  tried,  thus  she  was  told, 

for  example,  that  earthquakes  only  occur  where  there  are 
volcanoes.  But  then  she  had  to  be  satisfied  that  the  moun¬ 
tains  surrounding  the  city  were  not  volcanoes.  This  reasoning 
led  the  child  by  degrees  to  a  desire  for  learning,  as  strong 
as  it  was  unnatural  at  her  age,  which  showed  itself  m  a 
demand  that  all  the  geological  atlases  and  text-books  should 
be  brought  to  her  from  her  father’s  library.  For  hours  she 
rummaged  through  these  works  looking  for  pictures  of  vol¬ 
canoes  and  earthquakes,  and  asking  questions  continually. 
Here  we  are  confronted  by  an  energetic  effort  to  sublimate 
the  fear  into  an  eager  desire  for  knowledge,  which  at  this 
age  made  a  decidedly  premature  exaction.  But  how  many 
a°gifted  child  suffering  in  exactly  the  same  way  with  such 
problems,  is  “  cosseted  ”  through  this  untimely  sublimation, 
by  no  means  to  its  advantage.  For,  by  favouring  sublima¬ 
tion  at  this  age  one  is  merely  strengthening  manifestation  of 
neurosis.  The  root  of  the  eager  desire  for  knowledge  is  fear, 
and  fear  is  the  expression  of  converted  libido;  that  is,  it  is  the 
expression  of  an  introversion  which  has  become  neurotic ,  which 
at  this  age  is  neither  necessary  nor  favourable  for  the 
development  of  the  child. 

Whither  this  eager  desire  for  knowledge  was  ultimately 
directed  is  explained  by  a  series  of  questions  which  arose 
almost  daily.  “  Why  is  Sophie  (a  younger  sister)  younger 
than  I  ?”  “  Where  was  Freddie  (the  little  brother)  befoie  ? 

Was  he  in  heaven  ?  What  was  he  doing  there  ?  Why  did  he 

come  down  just  now,  why  not  before  ?  ” 

This  state  of  affairs  led  the  father  to  decide  that  the 
mother  should  tell  the  child  when  occasion  offered  the  truth 
concerning  the  origin  of  the  little  brother.  This  having  been 
done,  Anna  soon  thereafter  asked  about  the  stork.  Her 
mother  told  her  that  the  story  of  the  stork  was  not  true,  but 


142 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


that  Freddie  grew  inside  his  mother  like  the  flowers  in  a  plant. 
At  first  he  was  very  little,  and  then  he  became  bigger  and 
bigger  as  a  plant  does.  She  listened  attentively  without  the 
slightest  surprise,  and  then  asked,  “But  did  he  come  out  all 
by  himself  ?  ” 

Mother:  “Yes.” 

Anna  :  “  But  he  cannot  walk  !  ” 

Sophie  :  “  Then  he  crawled  out.” 

Anna,  overhearing  her  little  sister’s  answer  :  “  Is  there  a 
hole  here  ?  (pointing  to  the  breast)  or  did  he  come  out  of  the 
mouth  ?  Who  came  out  ot  the  nurse  ?  ”  She  then  interrupted 
herself  and  exclaimed,  “No,  no,  the  stork  brought  baby 
brother  down  from  heaven.”  She  soon  left  the  subject  and 
again  wished  to  see  pictures  of  volcanoes.  During  the  even¬ 
ing  following  this  conversation  she  was  calm.  The  sudden 
explanation  produced  in  the  child  a  whole  series  of  ideas, 
which  manifested  themselves  in  certain  questions.  New  un¬ 
expected  perspectives  were  opened ;  she  rapidly  approached 
the  main  problem,  namely,  the  question,, “  Where  did  the  hahy 
come  out  ?  JJ  as  it  from  a  hole  in  the  breast  or  from  the  mouth  ? 
Both  suppositions  are  entirely  qualified  to  form  acceptable 
theories.  We  even  meet  with  recently  married  women  who 
still  entertain  the  theory  of  the  hole  in  the  abdominal  wall  or 
of  the  Caesarean  section ;  this  is  supposed  to  betray  a  very 
unusual  degree  of  innocence.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  is 
not  innocence;  we  are  always  dealing  in  such  cases  with 
infantile  sexual  activities,  which  in  later  life  have  brought 
the  vias  naturales  into  ill  repute. 

It  may  be  asked  where  the  child  got  the  absurd  idea  that 
there  is  a  hole  in  the  breast,  or  that  the  birth  takes  place 
through  the  mouth.  Why  did  she  not  select  one  of  the 
natural  openings  existing  in  the  pelvis  from  which  things 
come  out  daily  ?  The  explanation  is  simple.  Very  shortly 
before,  our  little  one  had  invoked  some  educational  criticism 
from  her  mother  by  a  heightened  interest  in  both  openings 
with  their  remarkable  excretions, — an  interest  not  always  in 
accord  with  the  requirements  of  cleanliness  and  decorum. 
Then  for  the  first  time  she  became  acquainted  with  the 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


148 


exceptional  laws  relating  to  these  bodily  regions  and,  being 
a  sensitive  child,  she  soon  learned  that  there  was  something 
here  to.be  tabooed.  This  region,  therefore,  must  not  be 
referred  to.  Anna  had  simply  shown  herself  docile  and  had  so 
adjusted  herself  to  the  cultural  demands  that  she  thought  (at 
least  spoke)  of  the  simplest  things  last.  The  incorrect  theories 
substituted  for  correct  laws  sometimes  persist  for  years  until 
brusque  explanations  come  from  without.  It  is,  therefore, 
no  wonder  that  such  theories,  the  forming  of  and  adherence 
to  which  are  favoured  even  by  parents  and  educationalists 
should  later  become  determinants  for  important  symptoms 
in  a  neurosis,  or  of  delusions  in  a  psychosis,  just  as  I 
have  shown  that  in  dementia  praecox  1  what  has  existed  in 
the  mind  for  years  always  remains  somewhere,  though  it 
may  be  hidden  under  compensations  of  a  seemingly  different 

kind. 

But  even  before  this  question  was  settled  as  to  where  the 
child  really  comes  out  a  new  problem  obtruded  itself,  viz.  the 
children  came  out  of  the  mother,  but  how  is  it  with  the 
nurse  ?  Did  some  one  come  out  of  her  too  ?  This  question 
was  followed  by  the  remark,  “  No,  no,  the  stork  brought 
down  baby  brother  from  heaven.”  What  is  there  peculiar 
about  the  fact  that  nobody  came  out  of  the  nurse?  We 
recall  that  Anna  identified  herself  with  the  nurse,  and 
planned  to  become  a  nurse  later,  for  she,  too,  would  like  to 
have  a  child,  and  she  could  have  one  as  well  as  the  nurse. 
But  now  when  it  is  known  that  the  little  brother  grew  in 
mama,  how  is  it  now  ? 

This  disquieting  question  is  averted  by  a  quick  return  to 
the  stork-angel  theory  which  has  never  been  really  believed 
and  which  after  a  few  trials  is  at  last  definitely  abandoned. 
Two  questions,  however,  remain  in  the  air.  The  first  reads 
as  follows  :  Where  does  the  child  come  out  ?  The  second,  a 
considerably  more  difficult  one,  reads :  How  does  it  happen 
that  mama  has  children  while  the  nurse  and  the  servants 

1  Jung :  “  The  Psychology  of  Dementia  Prsecox,”  translated  by  Peterson 
and  Brill.  Journal  of  Nervous  and  Mental  Diseases,  Monograph  Series, 
No.  3. 


144 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


do  not  ?  All  these  questions  did  not  at  first  manifest  them¬ 
selves. 

On  the  day  following  the  explanation,  while  at  dinner, 
Anna  spontaneously  remarked  :  “  My  brother  is  in  Italy,  and 
has  a  house  of  cloth  and  glass,  but  it  does  not  tumble  down.” 

In  this  case,  as  in  the  others,  it  was  impossible  to  ask  for 
an  explanation ;  the  resistances  were  too  great  and  Anna 
could  not  be  drawn  into  conversation.  This  former  officious 
and  pretty  explanation  is  very  significant.  For  some  three 
months  the  two  sisters  had  been  building  a  stereotyped 
fanciful  conception  of  a  “big  brother.”  This  brother  knows 
everything,  he  can  do  and  has  everything,  he  has  been  and 
is  in  every  place  where  the  children  are  not ;  he  is  owner  of 
great  cows,  oxen,  horses,  dogs  ;  everything  is  his,  etc.  Every 
one  has  such  a  “big  brother.”  We  must  not  look  far  for  the 
origin  of  this  fancy ;  the  model  for  it  is  the  father  who  seems 
to  correspond  to  this  conception ;  he  seems  to  be  like  a 
brother  to  mama.  The  children,  too,  have  their  similar 
powerful  “  brother.”  This  brother  is  very  brave ;  he  is  at 
present  in  dangerous  Italy  and  inhabits  an  impossible  fragile 
house,  and  it  does  not  tumble  down.  For  the  child  this 
realises  an  important  wish :  the  earthquake  is  no  longer  to  be 
dangerous ;  in  consequence  the  child's  fear  disappeared  and  did 
not  return.  The  fear  of  earthquakes  now  entirely  vanished. 
Instead  of  calling  her  father  to  her  bed  to  conjure  away  the 
fear,  she  now  became  very  affectionate  and  begged  him  every 
night  to  kiss  her. 

In  order  to  test  this  new  state  of  affairs  the  father  showed 
her  pictures  illustrating  volcanoes  and  earthquake  devasta¬ 
tions.  Anna  remained  unaffected,  she  examined  the  pictures 
with  indifference,  remarking,  “These  people  are  dead;  I 
have  already  seen  that  quite  often.”  The  picture  of  a 
volcanic  eruption  no  longer  had  any  attraction  for  her.  Thus 
all  her  scientific  interest  collapsed  and  vanished  as  suddenly 
as  it  came.  During  the  days  following  the  explanation  Anna 
had  quite  important  matters  to  occupy  herself  with ;  she 
disseminated  her  newly  acquired  knowledge  among  those 
about  her  in  the  following  manner :  She  began  by  again 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


145 


circumstantially  affirming  what  had  been  told  her,  viz.  that 
Freddy,  her  younger  sister,  and  herself  had  grown  in  her 
mother,  that  papa  and  mama  grew  in  their  mothers,  and  that 
the  servants  likewise  grew  in  their  respective  mothers.  By 
frequent  questions  she  tested  the  true  basis  of  her  knowledge, 
for  her  suspicion  was  aroused  in  no  small  measure,  so  that  it 
needed  many  confirmations  to  remove  all  her  uncertainties. 

On  one  occasion  the  trustworthiness  of  the  theory 
threatened  to  go  to  pieces.  About  a  week  after  the  explana¬ 
tion,  the  father  was  taken  ill  with  influenza  and  had  to 
remain  in  bed  during  the  forenoon.  The  children  knew 
nothing  about  this,  and  Anna,  coming  into  the  parents’ 
bedroom,  saw  what  was  quite  unusual,  namely,  that  her 
father  was  remaining  in  bed.  She  again  took  on  a  peculiar 
surprised  expression;  she  remained  at  a  distance  from  the 
bed  and  would  not  come  nearer;  she  was  apparently  again 
reserved  and  suspicious.  But  suddenly  she  burst  out  with 
the  question,  “Why  are  you  in  bed;  have  you  a  plant  in 
your  inside  too  ?  ” 

The  father  naturally  had  to  laugh.  He  calmed  her, 
however,  by  assuring  her  that  children  never  grow  in  the 
father,  that  only  women  can  have  children,  and  not  men ; 
thereupon  the  child  again  became  friendly.  But  though  the 
surface  was  calm  the  problems  continued  to  work  in  the 
dark.  A  few  days  later,  while  at  dinner,  Anna  related  the 
following  dream :  “  I  dreamed  last  night  of  Noah’s  ark.” 
The  father  then  asked  her  what  she  had  dreamed  about  it, 
but  Anna’s  answer  was  sheer  nonsense.  In  such  cases  it  is 
necessary  only  to  wait  and  pay  attention.  A  few  minutes 
later  she  said  to  her  mother,  “I  dreamed  last  night  about 
Noah’s  ark,  and  there  were  a  lot  of  little  animals  in  it.” 
Another  pause.  She  then  began  her  story  for  the  third  time. 
“I  dreamed  last  night  about  Noah’s  ark ,  and  there  were  a  lot  of 
baby  animals  in  it,  and  underneath  there  ivas  a  lid  and  that 
opened  and  all  the  baby  animals  fell  out.” 

The  children  really  had  a  Noah’s  ark,  but  its  opening,  a 
lid,  was  on  the  roof  and  not  underneath.  In  this  way  she 
delicately  intimated  that  the  story  of  the  birth  from  mouth 

10 


146 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


or  breast  is  incorrect,  and  that  she  had  some  inkling  where 
the  children  came  out. 

A  few  weeks  then  passed  without  any  noteworthy  occur¬ 
rences.  On  one  occasion  she  related  the  following  dream : 
“I  dreamed  about  papa  and  mama;  they  had  been  sitting 
late  in  the  study ,  and  we  children  were  there  too.”  On  the 
face  of  this  we  find  a  wish  of  the  children  to  be  allowed  to 
sit  up  as  long  as  the  parents.  This  wish  is  here  realised,  or 
rather  it  is  utilised  to  express  a  more  important  wish, 
namely,  to  be  present  in  the  evening  when  the  parents  are  alone  ; 
of  course,  quite  innocently,  it  was  in  the  study  where  she  has 
seen  all  the  interesting  books,  and  where  she  has  satiated  her 
thirst  for  knowledge ;  i.e.  she  was  really  seeking  an  answer 
to  the  burning  question,  whence  the  little  brother  came.  If 
the  children  were  there  they  would  find  out.1  A  few  days 
later  Anna  had  a  terrifying  dream  from  which  she  awoke 
crying,  “  The  earthquake  is  coming,  the  house  has  begun  to 
shake.”  Her  mother  went  to  her  and  calmed  her  by  saying 
that  the  earthquake  was  not  coming,  that  everything  was 
quiet,  and  that  everybody  was  asleep.  Whereupon  Anna 
said :  “  I  would  like  to  see  the  spring ,  when  all  the  little  flowers 
are  coming  out  and  the  whole  lawn  is  full  of  flowers ;  I  would 
like  to  see  Freddy ,  he  has  such  a  dear  little  face.  J That  is  papa 
doing  ?  What  is  he  saying  $  ”  The  mother  said,  “  He  is 
asleep,  and  isn’t  saying  anything  now.”  Little  Anna  then 
remarked  with  a  sarcastic  smile  :  “  He  ivill  surely  be  sick 
again  to-morrow .” 

This  text  should  be  read  backwards.  The  last  sentence 
was  not  meant  seriously,  as  it  was  uttered  in  a  mocking  tone. 
When  the  father  was  sick  the  last  time,  Anna  suspected 
that  he  had  a  “  plant  in  his  inside.”  The  sarcasm  signifies  : 
“  To-morrow  papa  is  surely  going  to  have  a  child.’  But  this 
also  is  not  meant  seriously.  Papa  is  not  going  to  have  a 
child ;  mama  alone  has  children ;  perhaps  she  will  have 
another  child  to-morrow;  but  where  from?  “What  does 
papa  do  ?  ”  The  formulation  of  the  difficult  problem  seems 

1  This  wish  to  sit  up  with  the  father  and  mother  until  late  at  night  often 
plays  a  great  part  later  in  a  neurosis. 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


147 


here  to  come  to  the  surface.  It  reads :  What  does  papa 
really  do  if  he  does  not  bear  children  ?  The  little  one  is  very 
anxious  to  have  a  solution  for  all  these  problems ;  she  would 
like  to  know  how  Freddy  came  into  the  world,  she  would  like 
to  see  how  the  little  flowers  come  out  of  the  earth  in  the 
spring,  and  these  wishes  are  hidden  behind  the  fear  of  earth¬ 
quakes. 

After  this  intermezzo  Anna  slept  quietly  until  morning. 
In  the  morning  her  mother  asked  her  what  she  had  dreamed. 
She  did  not  at  first  recall  anything,  and  then  said :  “  I 
dreamed  that  I  could  make  the  summer ,  and  then  some  one  threw 
a  Punch 1  down  into  the  closet .” 

This  peculiar  dream  apparently  has  two  different  scenes 
which  are  separated  by  “  then.”  The  second  part  draws  its 
material  from  the  recent  wish  to  possess  a  Punch,  that  is,  to 
have  a  boy  doll  just  as  mama  has  a  little  boy.  Some  one 
threw  Punch  down  into  the  closet ;  one  often  lets  other  things 
fall  down  into  the  water  closet.  It  is  just  like  this  that  the 
children ,  too ,  come  out.  We  have  here  an  analogy  to  the 
“  Lumpf-theory  ”  of  little  Hans.2  Whenever  several  scenes 
are  found  in  one  dream,  each  scene  ordinarily  represents  a 
particular  variation  of  the  complex  elaboration.  Here 
accordingly  the  first  part  is  only  a  variation  of  the  theme 
found  in  the  second  part.  The  meaning  of  “  to  see  the 
spring”  or  “  to  see  the  little  flowers  come  out”  we  have 
already  remarked.  Anna  now  dreams  that  she  can  make  the 
summer ,  that  is  she  can  bring  it  about  that  the  little  flowers 
shall  come  out.  She  herself  can  make  a  little  child,  and  the 
second  part  of  the  dream  represents  this  just  as  one  makes  a 
motion  in  the  w.c.  Here  we  find  the  egoistic  wish  which  is 
behind  the  seemingly  objective  interest  of  the  previous  night’s 
conversation. 

A  few  days  later  the  mother  was  visited  by  a  lady  who 
expected  soon  to  become  a  mother.  The  children  seemed  to 
take  no  interest  in  the  matter,  but  the  next  day  they  amused 

1  A  doll  from  Punch  and  Judy. 

2  See  analysis  of  a  five-year-old  boy,  Jahrbuch  f.  Psychoanalytische  u. 
Psychopathologische  Forschungen,  vol.  I. 


148 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


themselves  with  the  following  play  which  was  directed  by 
the  elder  girl ;  they  took  all  the  newspapers  they  could  find 
in  their  father’s  paper-basket  and  stuffed  them  under  their 
clothes,  so  that  the  imitation  was  unmistakable.  During  the 
night  little  Anna  had  another  dream:  “I  dreamed  about  a 
woman  in  the  city ;  she  had  a  very  big  stomach .”  The  chief 
actor  in  a  dream  is  always  the  dreamer  himself  under  some 
definite  aspect ;  thus  the  childish  play  of  the  day  before  is 
fully  solved. 

Not  long  after,  Anna  surprised  her  mother  with  the  follow¬ 
ing  performance  :  She  stuck  her  doll  under  her  clothes,  then 
pulled  it  out  slowly  head  downwards,  and  at  the  same  time 
remarked,  “Look,  the  baby  is  coming  out,  now  it  is  all  out  ” 
By  this  means  Anna  tells  her  mother,  “You  see,  thus  I 
apprehend  the  problem  of  birth.  What  do  you  think  of  it  ? 
Is  that  right  ?  ”  The  play  is  really  meant  to  be  a  question, 
for,  as  we  shall  see  later,  this  idea  had  to  be  officially  con¬ 
firmed.  That  rumination  on  this  problem  by  no  means  ended 
here,  is  shown  by  the  occasional  ideas  conceived  during  the 
following  weeks.  Thus  she  repeated  the  same  play  a  few 
days  later  with  her  Teddy  Bear,  who  stands  in  the  relation  of 
an  especially  beloved  doll.  One  day,  looking  at  a  rose,  she 
said  to  her  grandmother,  “  See,  the  rose  is  getting  a  baby.” 
As  her  grandmother  did  not  quite  understand  her,  she  pointed 
to  the  enlarged  calyx  and  said,  “  Don’t  you  see  it  is  quite  fat 
here  ?  ” 

Anna  once  quarrelled  with  her  younger  sister,  and  the 
latter  exclaimed  angrily,  “  I  will  kill  you.”  Whereupon  Anna 
answered,  “When  I  am  dead  you  will  be  all  alone ;  then  you 
will  have  to  pray  to  God  for  a  live  baby.”  But  the  scene  soon 
changed :  Anna  was  the  angel,  and  the  younger  sister  was 
forced  to  kneel  before  her  and  pray  to  her  that  she  should 
present  to  her  a  living  child.  In  this  way  Anna  became  the 
child-dispensing  mother. 

Oranges  were  once  served  at  table.  Anna  impatiently 
asked  for  one  and  said,  “I  am  going  to  take  an  orange  and 
swallow  it  all  down  into  my  stomach,  and  then  I  shall  get  a  baby” 
Who  does  not  think  here  of  fairy  tales  in  which  childless 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


149 


women  become  pregnant  by  swallowing  fruit,  fish,  and  similar 
things  ? 1  In  this  way  Anna  sought  to  solve  the  problem  hoiv 
the  children  actually  come  into  the  mother.  She  thus  enters  into 
a  formulation  which  hitherto  had  not  been  defined  with  so 
much  clearness.  The  solution  follows  in  the  form  of  an 
analogy ,  which  is  quite  characteristic  of  the  archaic  thinking  of 
the  child.  (In  the  adult,  too,  there  is  a  kind  of  thinking  by 
metaphor  which  belongs  to  the  stratum  lying  immediately 
below  consciousness;  dreams  bring  the  analogies  to  the 
surface ;  the  same  may  be  observed  also  in  dementia  praecox.) 
In  German  as  well  as  in  numerous  foreign  fairy  tales  one 
frequently  finds  such  characteristic  childish  comparisons. 
Fairy  tales  seem  to  be  the  myths  of  the  child,  and  therefore 
contain  among  other  things  the  mythology  which  the  child 
weaves  concerning  the  sexual  processes.  The  spell  of  the 
fairy  tale  poetry,  which  is  felt  even  by  the  adult,  is  explained 
by  the  fact  that  some  of  the  old  theories  are  still  alive  in  our 
unconscious  minds.  We  experience  a  strange,  peculiar  and 
familiar  feeling  when  a  conception  of  our  remotest  youth  is 
again  stimulated.  Without  becoming  conscious  it  merely 
sends  into  consciousness  a  feeble  copy  of  its  original  emotional 
strength. 

The  problem  how  the  child  gets  into  the  mother  was 
difficult  to  solve.  As  the  only  way  of  taking  things  into  the 
body  is  through  the  mouth,  it  could  evidently  be  assumed 
that  the  mother  ate  something  like  a  fruit,  which  then  grows 
inside  her.  But  then  comes  another  difficulty,  namely,  it  is 
clear  enough  what  the  mother  produces,  but  it  is  not  yet  clear 
what  the  father  is  good  for. 

What  does  the  father  do  ?  Anna  now  occupied  herself 
exclusively  with  this  question.  One  morning  she  ran  into  the 
parents’  bedroom  while  they  were  dressing,  she  jumped  into 
her  father’s  bed,  lay  face  downwards,  kicked  with  her  legs, 
and  called  at  the  same  time,  “  Look  !  does  papa  do  that  ?  ” 
The  analogy  to  the  horse  of  “little  Hans  ”  which  raised  such 
disturbance  with  its  legs,  is  very  surprising. 

With  this  last  performance  the  problem  seemed  to  be  at 

1  Franz  Riklin,  “  Fulfilment  of  Wishes  and  Symbolism  in  Fairy  Tales.” 


150 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


rest  entirely,  at  least  the  parents  found  no  opportunity  to 
make  any  pertinent  observations.  That  the  problem  should 
come  to  a  standstill  just  here  is  not  at  all  surprising,  for  this 
is  really  its  most  difficult  part.  Moreover,  we  know  from 
experience  that  not  many  children  go  beyond  these  limits 
during  the  period  of  childhood.  The  problem  is  almost  too 
difficult  for  the  childish  mind,  which  still  lacks  much 
knowledge  necessary  to  its  solution. 

This  standstill  lasted  about  five  months,  during  which  no 
phobias  or  other  signs  of  complex-elaboration  appeared. 
After  this  lapse  of  time  there  appeared  premonitory  signs  of 
some  new  incidents.  Anna’s  family  lived  at  that  time  in  the 
country  near  a  lake  where  the  mother  and  children  could 
bathe.  As  Anna  was  afraid  to  wade  farther  into  the  water 
than  knee-deep,  her  father  once  put  her  into  the  water,  which 
led  to  an  outburst  of  crying.  In  the  evening  while  going  to 
bed  Anna  asked  her  mother,  “  Do  you  not  believe  that  father 
wanted  to  drown  me?”  A  few  days  later  there  was  another 
outburst  of  crying.  She  continued  to  stand  in  the  gardener  s 
way  until  he  finally  placed  her  in  a  newly  dug  hole.  Anna 
cried  bitterly,  and  afterwards  maintained  that  the  gardener 
wished  to  bury  her.  Finally  she  awoke  during  the  night 
with  fearful  crying.  Her  mother  went  to  her  in  the  adjoining 
room  and  quieted  her.  She  had  dreamed  that  “a  train  passed 
and  then  fell  in  a  heap.” 

This  tallies  with  the  “ stage  coach”  of  “ little  Hans.” 
These  incidents  showed  clearly  enough  that  fear  was  again 
in  the  air,  i.e.  that  a  resistance  had  again  arisen  pre¬ 
venting  transference  to  the  parents,  and  that  therefore  a 
great  part  of  her  love  was  converted  into  fear.  This  time 
suspicion  was  not  directed  against  the  mother,  but  against 
the  father,  who  she  was  sure  must  know  the  secret,  but  would 
never  let  anything  out.  What  could  the  father  be  doing  or 
keeping  secret  ?  To  the  child  this  secret  appeared  as  some¬ 
thing  dangerous,  so  that  she  felt  the  worst  might  be  expected 
from  the  father.  (This  feeling  of  childish  anxiety  with  the 
father  as  object  we  see  again  most  distinctly  in  adults, 
especially  in  dementia  praecox,  which  lifts  the  veil  of  obscurity 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


151 


from  many  unconscious  processes,  as  though  it  were  following 
psychoanalytic  principles.)  It  was  for  this  reason  that  Anna 
came  to  the  apparently  absurd  conclusion  that  her  father 
wanted  to  drown  her.  At  the  same  time  her  fear  contained 
the  thought  that  the  object  of  the  father  had  some  relation  to  a 
dangerous  action.  This  stream  of  thought  is  no  arbitrary 
interpretation.  Anna  meanwhile  grew  a  little  older  and  her 
interest  in  her  father  took  on  a  special  colouring  which  is  hard 
to  describe.  Language  has  no  words  to  describe  the  quite 
unique  kind  of  tender  curiosity  which  shone  in  the  child’s 
eyes. 

Anna  once  took  marked  delight  in  assisting  the  gardener 
while  he  was  sowing  grass,  without  apparently  divulging  the 
profound  significance  of  her  play.  About  a  fortnight  later 
she  began  to  observe  with  great  pleasure  the  young  grass 
sprouting.  On  one  of  these  occasions  she  asked  her  mother 
the  following  question :  “  Tell  me,  how  did  the  eyes  grow  into 
the  head?”  The  mother  told  her  that  she  did  not  know. 
Anna,  however,  continued  to  ask  whether  God  or  her  papa 
could  tell  this  ?  The  mother  then  referred  her  to  her  father, 
who  might  tell  her  how  the  eyes  grew  into  the  head.  A  few 
days  later  there  was  a  family  reunion  at  tea.  When  the 
guests  had  departed,  the  father  remained  at  the  table  reading 
the  paper  and  Anna  also  remained.  Suddenly  approaching 
her  father  she  said,  “Tell  me,  how  did  the  eyes  grow  into 
the  head  ?  ” 

Father:  “They  did  not  grow  into  the  head;  they  were 
there  from  the  beginning  and  grew  with  the  head.” 

A. :  “  Were  not  the  eyes  planted  ?  ” 

F. :  “  No,  they  grew  in  the  head  like  the  nose.” 

A. :  “  Did  the  mouth  and  the  ears  grow  in  the  same  way  ? 
and  the  hair,  too  ?  ” 

F. :  “  Yes,  they  all  grew  in  the  same  way.” 

A. :  “  And  the  hair,  too  ?  But  the  mousies  came  into  the 
world  naked.  Where  was  the  hair  before  ?  Aren’t  there  little 
seeds  for  it  ?  ” 

F. :  “No;  you  see,  the  hair  really  came  out  of  little  grains 
which  are  like  seeds,  but  these  were  already  in  the  skin  long 


152 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


before  and  nobody  sowed  them.”  The  father  was  now  getting 
concerned;  he  knew  whither  the  little  one’s  thoughts  were 
directed,  but  he  did  not  wish  to  overthrow,  for  the  sake  of  a 
former  false  application,  the  opportunely  established  seed- 
theory  which  she  had  most  fortunately  gathered  from  nature  ; 
but  the  child  spoke  with  an  unwonted  seriousness  which 
demanded  consideration. 

Anna  (evidently  disappointed,  and  in  a  distressed  tone) : 
“But  how  did  Freddy  get  into  mama  ?  Who  stuck  him  in  ? 
and  who  stuck  you  into  your  mama  ?  Where  did  he  come 
out  from  ?  ” 

From  this  sudden  storm  of  questions  the  father  chose  the 
last  for  his  first  answer.  “  Just  think,  you  know  well  enough 
that  Freddy  is  a  boy;  boys  become  men  and  girls  women. 
Only  women  and  not  men  can  have  children ;  now  just  think, 
where  could  Freddy  come  out  from  ?  ” 

A,  (Laughs  joyfully  and  points  to  her  genitals) :  “  Did 
he  come  out  here  ?  ” 

Father :  “  Yes,  of  course,  you  certainly  must  have  thought 
of  this  before  ?  ” 

A.  (Overlooking  the  question) :  “  But  how  did  Freddy 
get  into  mama  ?  Did  anybody  plant  him  ?  Was  the  seed 
planted  ?  ” 

This  very  precise  question  could  no  longer  be  evaded  by 
the  father.  He  explained  to  the  child,  who  listened  with  the 
greatest  attention,  that  the  mother  is  like  the  soil  and  the 
father  like  the  gardener ;  that  the  father  provides  the  seed 
which  grows  in  the  mother,  and  thus  gives  origin  to  a  baby. 
This  answer  gave  extraordinary  satisfaction  ;  she  immediately 
ran  to  her  mother  and  said,  “  Papa  has  told  me  everything, 
now  I  know  it  all.”  She  did  not,  however,  tell  what  she  knew. 

The  new  knowledge  was,  however,  put  into  play  the  follow¬ 
ing  day.  Anna  went  to  her  mother  and  said,  “  Think,  mama, 
papa  told  me  how  Freddy  was  a  little  angel  and  was  brought 
from  heaven  by  a  stork.”  The  mother  was  naturally  sur¬ 
prised  and  said,  “No,  you  are  mistaken,  papa  surely  never 
told  you  such  a  thing  !  ”  whereupon  the  little  one  laughed  and 
ran  away. 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 


158 


This  was  apparently  a  mode  of  revenge.  Her  mother  did 
not  wish  or  was  not  able  to  tell  her  how  the  eyes  grew  into 
the  head,  hence  she  did  not  know  how  Freddy  got  into  her. 
It  was  for  this  reason  that  she  again  tried  her  with  the  old 
story. 

I  wish  to  impress  firmly  upon  parents  and  educationists 
this  instructive  example  of  child  psychology.  In  the  learned 
psychological  discussions  on  the  child’s  psyche  we  hear  nothing 
about  those  parts  which  are  so  important  for  the  health 
and  naturalness  of  our  children,  nor  do  we  hear  more  about 
the  child’s  emotions  and  conflicts ;  and  yet  they  play  a  most 
important  role. 

It  very  often  happens  that  children  are  erroneously 
treated  as  quite  imprudent  and  irrational  beings.  Thus  on 
indulgently  remarking  to  an  intelligent  father,  whose  four- 
year-old  daughter  masturbated  excessively,  that  care  should 
be  exercised  in  the  presence  of  the  child  who  slept  in  the 
same  room  as  the  parents,  I  received  the  indignant  reply, 
“  I  can  absolutely  assure  you  that  the  child  knows  nothing 
about  sexual  matters.”  This  recalls  that  distinguished  old 
neurologist  who  wished  to  deny  the  attribute  “sexual”  to 
a  childbirth  phantasy  which  was  represented  in  a  dreamy 
state. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  child  evincing  neurotic  talent  exag¬ 
gerated  by  neurosis  may  be  urged  on  by  solicitous  parents. 
How  easy  and  tempting  it  would  have  been,  e.g.  in  the  present 
case,  to  admire,  excite,  and  develop  prematurely  the  child’s 
eager  desire  for  learning,  and  thereby  develop  an  unnatural 
blase  state  and  a  precociousness  masking  a  neurosis  !  In  such 
cases  the  parents  must  look  after  their  own  complexes  and 
complex  tendencies  and  not  make  capital  out  of  them  at  the 
expense  of  the  child.  The  idea  should  be  dismissed  once  for 
all  that  children  are  to  be  held  in  bondage  by  their  parents 
or  that  they  are  their  toys.  They  are  characteristic  and  new 
beings.  In  the  matter  of  enlightenment  on  sexual  things  it 
can  be  affirmed  that  they  suffer  from  the  preconceived  opinion 
that  the  truth  is  harmful.  Many  neurologists  are  of  opinion 


154 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


that  even  in  grown-ups  enlightenment  on  their  own  psycho- 
sexual  processes  is  harmful  and  even  immoral.  Would  not 
the  same  persons  perhaps  refuse  to  admit  the  existence  of  the 
genitals  themselves  ? 

One  should  not,  however,  go  from  this  extreme  of  prudish¬ 
ness  to  the  opposite  one,  namely  that  of  enlightenment  a  tout 
prix,  which  may  turn  out  as  foolish  as  it  is  disagreeable.  In 
this  matter  I  believe  much  discretion  is  advisable ;  still  if 
children  come  upon  an  idea,  they  should  be  deceived  no 
more  than  adults. 

I  hope,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  that  I  have  shown  you  what 
complicated  psychic  processes  psychoanalytic  investigation 
reveals  in  the  child,  and  how  great  is  the  significance  of  these 
processes  for  the  mental  health  as  well  as  for  the  general 
psychic  development  of  the  child.  What  I  have  been  unable 
to  show  is  the  universal  validity  of  these  observations.  Un¬ 
fortunately,  I  am  not  in  a  position  to  demonstrate  this,  for 
I  do  not  lmow  myself  how  much  of  it  is  universally  valid. 
Only  by  accumulation  of  such  observations  and  further  pene¬ 
tration  into  the  problems  broached  shall  we  gain  a  complete 
insight  into  the  laws  of  psychical  development.  It  is  to 
be  regretted  that  we  are  at  present  still  far  from  this  goal. 
But  I  confidently  hope  that  educators  and  practical  psycholo¬ 
gists,  whether  physicians  or  deep-thinking  parents,  will  not 
leave  us  too  long  unassisted  in  this  immensely  important  and 
interesting  field. 

Literature. 

1.  Freud.  “  Die  Traumdeutung,”  II  Auflage.  Deuticke,  Wien,  1909. 

2.  - .  “  Sammlung  kleiner  Schriften  zur  Neurosenlehre,” 

Band  I  &  II.  Deuticke,  Wien. 

3.  - .  “  Analyse  der  Phobie  eines  5  jahrigen  Knaben,”  Jalir- 

bucli  fur  Psychoanalytische  u.  Psychopathologische  For - 

schungen ,  Band  I.  Deuticke,  Wien,  1908. 

4.  Freud.  “  Der  Inhalt  der  Psychose,”  Freud's  Scliriften  zur 

angeiuandten  Seelenkunde.  Deuticke,  1908. 

5.  Jung.  “  Diagnostische  Associationsstudien,”  Band  I.  Barth, 

Leipzig,  1906. 

6.  - .  “  Die  Psychologische  Diagnose  des  Thatbestandes.” 

Carl  Marhold,  Halle,  1906. 


155 


THE  ASSOCIATION  METHOD 

7.  Jung.  “  Die  Bedeutung  des  Vaters  ftir  das  Schicksal  des 

Einzelnen.”  Deuticke,  Wien,  1908. 

8.  Jung.  “  The  Psychology  of  Dementia  Praecox,”  translated  by 

Peterson  and  Brill,  Journal  of  Mental  and  Nervous  Diseases , 

Monograph  Series,  No.  2.  . 

9.  Furst.  “  Statistische  Untersuchnngen  uber  Wortassoziationen 

und  tiber  familiare  Ubereinstimmung  im  Beactionstypns  bei 
Ungebildeten,  X  Beitrag  der  Diagnost.  Assoc.  Stndien,  vol.  II. 
10.  Brill.  “  Psychological  Factors  in  Dementia  Praecox,  Journal 
of  Abnormal  Psychology ,  vol.  III.,  No.  4. 

_ .  “A  case  of  Schizophrenia,”  American  Journal  of 

Insanity ,  vol.  LXVI.,  No.  1. 

12.  “Le  Nuove  Vedute  della  Psicologia  Criminale,”  Bivista  de 

Psicologia  Ayplicata ,  1908,  No.  4. 

13.  “  L’Analyse  des  Reves,”  Annee  Psychologigue ,  1909,  Tome  XV. 

14.  “Associations  d’idees  Familiales,”  Archives  de  Psychologic , 

T.  VII.,  No.  26. 


CHAPTER  III 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  THE  FATHER  IN  THE 
DESTINY  OF  THE  INDIVIDUAL 

Ducunt  volentem  fata ,  nolentem  trahunt. 

Freud  has  pointed  out  in  many  places 1  with  unmistakable 
clearness  that  the  psycho-sexual  relationship  of  the  child 
towards  his  parents,  particularly  towards  the  father,  possesses 
an  overwhelming  importance  in  the  content  of  any  later 
neurosis.  This  relationship  is  in  fact  the  infantile  channel  par 
excellence  in  which  the  libido  flows  back 2  when  it  encounters 
any  obstacles  in  later  years,  thus  revivifying  long-forgotten 
dreams  of  childhood.  It  is  ever  so  in  life  when  we  draw 
back  before  too  great  an  obstacle — the  menace  of  some 
severe  disappointment  or  the  risk  of  some  too  far-reaching 
decision — the  energy  stored  up  for  the  solution  of  the  task 
flows  back  impotent;  the  by-streams  once  relinquished  as 
inadequate  are  again  filled  up.  He  who  has  missed  the 
happiness  of  woman’s  love  falls  back,  as  a  substitute,  upon 
some  gushing  friendship,  upon  masturbation,  upon  religiosity ; 
should  he  be  a  neurotic  he  plunges  still  further  back  into  the 
conditions  of  childhood  which  have  never  been  quite  forsaken, 
to  which  indeed  the  normal  is  fettered  by  more  than  one  link 
— he  returns  to  the  relationship  to  father  and  mother.  Every 
psychoanalysis  carried  out  at  all  thoroughly  shows  this  regres¬ 
sion  more  or  less  plainly.  One  peculiarity  which  stands  out 
in  the  works  and  views  of  Freud  is  that  the  relationship  to 
the  father  is  seen  to  possess  an  overwhelming  importance. 
This  importance  of  the  father  in  the  moulding  of  the  child’s 

1  Freud,  especially  “  The  Interpretation  of  Dreams.” 

2  Libido  is  what  earlier  psychologists  called  “  will  ”  or  “  tendency.”  The 
Freudian  expression  is  denominatio  a  potiori.  Jahrbiich,  vol.  I.,  p.  155,  1909. 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  THE  FATHER  157 

psycho-sexuality  may  also  be  discovered  in  a  quite  other  and 
remote  field,  in  the  investigation  of  the  family.1  The  most 
recent  thorough  investigations  demonstrate  the  predominating 
influence  of  the  father  often  lasting  for  centuries..  The  mother 
seems  of  less  importance  in  the  family.2  If  this  is  true  for 
heredity  on  the  physical  side  how  much  more  should  we 
expect  from  the  psychological  influences  emanating  from  the 
father  ?  These  experiences,  and  those  gained  more  particu¬ 
larly  in  an  analysis  carried  out  conjointly  with  Dr.  Otto 
Gross,  have  impressed  upon  me  the  soundness  of  this  view. 
The  problem  has  been  considerably  advanced  and  deepened 
by  the  investigations  of  my  pupil  Dr.  Emma  Furst  into  familial 
resemblances  in  the  reaction-type.3  Furst  made  association 
experiments  on  one  hundred  persons  belonging  to  twenty-four 
families.  Of  this  extensive  material,  only  the  results  in  nine 
families  and  thirty-seven  persons  (all  uneducated)  have  been 
worked  out  and  published.  But  the  painstaking  calculations 
do  already  permit  some  valuable  conclusions.  The  associations 
are  classified  on  the  Kr^pelin-aschaffenbubg  scheme  as 
simplified  and  modified  by  myself;  the  difference  is  then 
calculated  between  each  group  of  qualities  of  the  subjects 
experimented  upon  and  the  corresponding  group  of  every 
other  subject  experimented  upon.  Thus  we  finally  get  the 
differentiation  of  the  mean  in  reaction-type.  The  following 
is  the  result : — 

N on-related  men  differ  among  themselves  by  5*9. 

Non-related  women  differ  among  themselves  by  6*0. 

Related  men  differ  among  themselves  by  4*1. 

Related  women  differ  among  themselves  by  3*8. 

1  Sommer,  “  Familienforschung  und  Vererbungslehre.”  Barth,  Leipzig, 
1907.  Joerger,  “  Die  Familie,  Zero,”  Arch,  fiir  Bassen  u.  Gesellschaftsbiologie, 
1905.  M.  Ziermer  (pseudonym),  “  Genealogische  Studien  uber  die  Vererbung 
geistiger  Eigenschaften,”  ibid.,  1908. 

2  For  the  importance  of  the  mother,  see  “  The  Psychology  of  the  Uncon¬ 
scious.”  C.  G.  Jung.  Moffart,  Yard  and  Co.,  New  York. 

3  E.  Furst,  “  Statistische  Untersuchungen  liber  Wortassoziationen  und 
uber  familiare  Ubereinstimmung  im  Reaktionstypus  bei  Ungebildeten. 
Beitrag  der  diagnostischen  Assoziationsstudien  herausgegeben  von.  Dr. 
C.  G.  Jung,”  Journal  fiir  Psychologic  und  Neurologic ,  Bd.  II.,  1907.  (Reprinted 
in  two  volumes  of  the  Joint  Reports.) 


158 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


Relatives,  and  especially  related  women,  have  therefore, 
on  the  average,  resemblance  in  reaction-type.  This  fact 
means  that  the  psychological  adaptation  of  relatives  differs 
but  slightly. 

An  investigation  into  the  various  relationships  gave  the 
following : — 

The  mean  difference  of  the  husband  and  wife  amounts 
to  4*7.  The  mean  differentiation  of  this  mean  is,  however, 
3 ’7,  a  very  high  figure,  which  signifies  that  the  mean  figure 
4*7  is  composed  of  very  heterogeneous  figures;  there  are 
married  couples  in  whom  the  reaction  type  is  very  close  and 
others  in  whom  it  is  very  slight.  On  the  whole,  however, 
father  and  son,  mother  and  daughter  stand  remarkably  close. 

The  difference  between  father  and  son  amounts  to  3*1. 

The  difference  between  mother  and  daughter  amounts 
to  3#0. 

With  the  exception  of  a  few  cases  of  married  couples 
(where  the  difference  fell  to  1*4)  these  are  the  lowest  differences. 
In  Fiirst’s  work  there  was  a  case  where  the  difference  between 
the  forty-five  year  old  mother  and  her  sixteen  year  old 
daughter  was  only  0*5.  But  it  was  just  in  this  case  that  the 
mother  and  daughter  differed  from  the  father’s  type  by  11*8. 
The  father  is  a  coarse,  stupid  man,  an  alcoholic ;  the  mother 
goes  in  for  Christian  Science.  This  corresponds  with  the 
fact  that  mother  and  daughter  exhibit  an  extreme  word- 
predicate  type,1  which  is,  in  my  experience,  important 
semeiotically  for  the  diagnosis  of  insufficiency  in  the  sexual 
object.  The  word-predicate  type  transparently  applies  an 
excessive  amount  of  emotion  externally  and  displays  emotions 
with  the  unconscious,  but  nevertheless  obvious  endeavour  to 
awaken  echoing  emotions  in  the  experimenter.  This  view 
closely  corresponds  with  the  fact  that  in  Furst’s  material  the 
number  of  word-predicates  increases  with  the  age  of  the 
subjects  experimented  upon. 

1  By  this  type  I  understand  reactions  where  the  response  to  the  stimulus- 
word  is  a  predicate  subjectively  accentuated  instead  of  an  objective  relation, 
e.g.,  Flower,  pleasant;  frog,  horrible;  piano,  terrible;  salt,  bad;  singing, 
sweet ;  cooking,  useful  (see  p.  124). 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  THE  FATHER  159 

The  fact  of  the  extreme  similarity  between  the  reaction- 
type  of  the  offspring  and  the  parents  is  matter  for  thoug  t. 
The  association  experiment  is  nothing  but  a  small  section 
from  the  psychological  life  of  a  man.  At  bottom  daily  lile  is 
nothing  hut  an  extensive  and  many-varied  association 
experiment;  in  essence  we  react  in  life  just  as  we  do  in  the 
experiments.  Although  this  truth  is  evident,  still  it  requires 
a  certain  consideration  and  limitation.  Let  us  take  as  an 
instance  the  case  of  the  unhappy  mother  of  forty-five  years 
and  her  unmarried  daughter  of  sixteen.  The  extreme  word- 
predicate  type  of  the  mother  is,  without  doubt,  the  precipitate 
of  a  whole  life  of  disappointed  hopes  and  wishes.  One  is  not 
in  the  least  surprised  at  the  word-predicate  type  heie.  u 
the  daughter  of  sixteen  has  really  not  yet  lived  at  all ;  her 
real  sexual  object  has  not  yet  been  found,  and  yet  she  reacts 
as  if  she  were  her  mother  with  endless  disillusions  behind 
her.  She  has  the  mother’s  adaptation,  and  in  so  far  she  is 
identified  with  the  mother.  There  is  ample  evidence  that  the 
mother’s  adaptation  must  be  attributed  to  her  relationship 
to  the  father.  But  the  daughter  is  not  married  to  the  father 
and  therefore  does  not  need  this  adaptation.  She  has  taken 
it  over  from  the  influence  of  her  milieu,  and  later  on  will  try 
to  adapt  herself  to  the  world  with  this  familial  disharmony. 
In  so  far  as  an  ill-assorted  marriage  is  unsuitable  the  adapta¬ 
tion  resulting  from  it  is  unsuitable. 

Clearly  such  a  fate  has  many  possibilities.  To  adapt 
herself  to  life,  this  girl  either  will  have  to  surmount  the 
obstacles  of  her  familial  milieu,  or,  unable  to  free  hersel 
from  them,  she  will  succumb  to  the  fate  to  which  such  an  adapta¬ 
tion  predisposes  her.  Deep  within,  unnoticed  by  any  one, 
there  may  go  on  a  glossing  over  of  the  infantile  disharmony, 
or  a  development  of  the  negative  of  the  parents’  character, 
accompanied  by  hindrances  and  conflicts  to  which  she  herself 
has  no  clue.  Or,  growing  up,  she  will  come  into  painful  conflict 
with  that  world  of  actualities  to  which  she  is  so  ill  adapted 
till  one  stroke  of  fate  after  another  gradually  opens  her  eyes 
to  the  fact  that  it  is  herself,  infantile  and  maladjusted,  that 
is  amiss.  The  source  of  infantile  adaptation  to  the  parents 


160 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


is  naturally  the  affective  condition  on  both  sides ;  the  psycho¬ 
sexuality  of  the  parents  on  one  side  and  that  of  the  child  on 
the  othei.  It  is  a  kind  of  psychical  infection;  we  know  that 
it  is  not  logical  truth,  but  effects  and  their  psychical  expres¬ 
sions  1  which  are  here  the  effective  forces.  It  is  these  that, 
with  the  power  of  the  herd-instinct,  press  into  the  mind 
of  the  child,  there  fashioning  and  moulding  it.  In  the 
plastic  years  between  one  and  five  there  have  to  be  worked 
out  all  the  essential  formative  lines  which  fit  exactly  into 
the  parental  mould.  Psychoanalytic  experience  teaches  us 
that,  as  a  rule,  the  first  signs  of  the  later  conflict  between 
the  parental  constellation  and  individual  independence,  of  the 
stiuggle  between  repression  and  libido  (Freud),  occur  before 
the  fifth  year. 

The  lew  following  histories  will  show  how  this  parental 
constellation  obstructs  the  adaptation  of  the  offspring.  It 

must  suffice  to  present  only  the  chief  events  of  these,  that  is 
the  events  of  sexuality. 

Case  1.— A  well-preserved  woman  of  55 ;  dressed  poorly 
but  carefully  in  black  with  a  certain  elegance,  the  hair  care¬ 
fully  dressed ;  a  polite,  obviously  affected  manner,  precise  in 
speech,  also  a  devotee.  The  patient  might  be  the  wife  of  a 
minor  official  or  shopkeeper.  She  informs  me,  blushing  and 
di opping  her  eyes,  that  she  is  the  divorced  wife  of  a  common 
peasant.  She  has  come  to  the  hospital  on  account  of 
depression,  night  terrors,  palpitations,  slight  nervous  twitch¬ 
es8  in  the  arms ;  thus  presenting  the  typical  features  of  a 
slight  climacteric  neurosis.  To  complete  the  picture  she 
adds  that  she  suffers  from  severe  anxiety  dreams ;  in  her 

dreams  some  man  seems  to  be  pursuing  her,  wild  animals 
attack  her,  and  so  on. 

Her  anamnesis  begins  with  the  family  history.  (So  f al¬ 
as  possible  I  give  her  own  words.)  Her  father  was  a  fine, 
stately,  rather  corpulent  man  of  imposing  appearance.  He 
was  very  happy  in  his  marriage,  for  her  mother  worshipped 
him.  He  was  a  clever  man,  a  master-mechanic,  and  held 

Cf.  Vigouroux  et  Jaqueliers,  “  La  contagion  mentale,”  Chapitre  VI  . 
Doin,  Paris,  1905. 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  THE  FATHER  161 


a  dignified  and  honourable  position.  There  were  only  two 
children,  the  patient  and  an  elder  sister.  The  sister  was  the 
mother’s,  and  the  patient  her  father’s  favourite.  When  the 
patient  was  five  years  old  the  father  died  suddenly  from  a 
stroke,  at  the  age  of  forty-two.  The  patient  felt  herself  very 
isolated  and  was  from  that  time  treated  by  the  mother  and 
the  elder  sister  as  the  Cinderella.  She  noticed  clearly  enough 
that  her  mother  preferred  her  sister  to  herself.  Her  mother 
remained  a  widow,  her  respect  for  her  husband  being  too 
great  to  allow  her  to  marry  a  second  time.  She  preserved 
his  memory  “like  a  religious  cult”  and  brought  up  her 
children  in  this  way. 

Later  on  the  sister  married,  relatively  young,  the  patient 
herself  only  at  the  age  of  twenty-four.  She  never  cared 
for  young  men,  they  all  seemed  insipid;  her  mind  turned 
always  to  more  mature  men.  When  about  twenty  she  became 
acquainted  with  a  stately  gentleman  rather  over  forty,  to 
whom  she  was  much  drawn.  For  various  reasons  the  friend¬ 
ship  was  broken  off.  At  twenty-four  she  became  acquainted 
with  a  widower  who  had  two  children.  He  was  a  fine, 
stately,  somewhat  corpulent  man,  and  had  an  imposing  pre¬ 
sence  like  her  father ;  he  was  forty-four.  She  married  him 
and  respected  him  enormously.  The  marriage  was  childless ; 
the  children  by  the  first  marriage  died  from  an  infectious 
disease.  After  four  years  of  married  life  her  husband  also 
died.  For  eighteen  years  she  remained  his  faithful  widow. 
But  at  forty-six  (just  before  the  menopause)  she  experienced  , 
a  great  need  of  love.  As  she  had  no  acquaintances  she 
went  to  a  matrimonial  agency  and  married  the  first  comer, 
a  peasant  of  some  sixty  years  who  had  been  already  twice 
divorced  on  account  of  brutality  and  perverseness ;  the 
patient  knew  this  before  marriage.  She  remained  five  un¬ 
bearable  years  with  him,  when  she  also  obtained  a  divorce. 
The  neurosis  set  in  a  little  later. 

No  further  discussion  will  be  required  for  those  with 
psychoanalytic  experience;  the  case  is  too  obvious.  For 
those  unversed  in  psychoanalysis  let  me  point  out  that  up 
to  her  forty-sixth  year  the  patient  did  but  reproduce  most 

11 


162 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


faithfully  the  milieu  of  her  earliest  youth.  The  sexuality  which 
announced  itself  so  late  and  so  drastically,  even  here  only 
led  to  a  deteriorated  edition  of  the  father-surrogate ;  to  this 
she  is  brought  by  this  late  blossoming  sexuality.  Despite 
repression,  the  neurosis  betrays  the  ever-fluctuating  eroticism 
of  the  aging  woman  who  still  wants  to  please  (affectation) 
but  dares  not  acknowledge  her  sexuality. 

Case  2. — A  man  of  thirty-four  of  small  build  and  with 
a  sensible,  kindly  expression.  He  is  easily  embarrassed, 
blushes  often.  He  came  for  treatment  on  account  of  “ner¬ 
vousness.”  He  says  he  is  very  irritable,  readily  fatigued, 
has  nervous  indigestion,  is  often  deeply  depressed  so  that  he 
has  thought  of  suicide. 

Before  coming  to  me  for  treatment  he  sent  me  a  circum¬ 
stantial  autobiography,  or  rather  a  history  of  his  illness,  in 
order  to  prepare  me  for  his  visit.  His  story  began :  “  My 
father  was  a  very  big  and  strong  man.”  This  sentence 
awakened  my  curiosity;  I  turned  over  a  page  and  there 
read :  “  When  I  was  fifteen  a  big  lad  of  nineteen  took  me 
into  the  wood  and  indecently  assaulted  me. 

The  numerous  gaps  in  the  patient’s  story  induced  me  to 
obtain  a  more  exact  anamnesis  from  him,  which  produced 

the  following  remarkable  facts. 

The  patient  is  the  youngest  of  three  brothers.  His 
father,  a  big,  red-haired  man,  was  formerly  a  soldier  in  the 
Papal  Swiss  Guard,  and  then  became  a  policeman.  He 
was  a  strict,  gruff  old  soldier,  who  brought  up  his  sons 
with  military  precision ;  he  commanded  them,  did  not  call 
them  by  name,  but  whistled  to  them.  He  had  spent  his 
youth  in  Rome,  where  he  acquired  syphilis,  from  the  conse¬ 
quences  of  which  he  still  suffered  in  old  age.  He  was  fond 
of  talking  about  his  adventures  in  early  life.  His  eldest 
son  (considerably  older  than  the  patient)  was  exactly  like 
him,  he  was  big,  strong  and  had  reddish  hair.  The  mother 
was  a  feeble  woman,  prematurely  aged ;  exhausted  and  tired 
of  life,  she  died  at  forty  when  the  patient  was  eight  years 
old.  He  preserved  a  tender  and  beautiful  memory  of  his 
mother. 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  THE  FATHEK  16B 


When  he  went  to  school  he  was  always  the  whipping-boy 
and  always  the  object  of  his  school-fellows’  mockery.  The 
patient  considers  that  his  peculiar  dialect  was  to  blame  for 
this.  Later  he  was  apprenticed  to  a  severe  and  unkind 
master,  under  most  trying  conditions,  fron  which  all  the 
other  apprentices  had  run  away,  finding  them  intoler¬ 
able.  Here  he  held  out  for  over  two  years.  At  fifteen  the 
assault  already  mentioned  took  place,  in  addition  to  some 
other  slighter  homosexual  experiences.  Then  fate  sent  him 
to  France.  There  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  man  from 
the  South  of  France,  a  great  boaster  and  Don  Juan.  He 
dragged  the  patient  into  a  brothel;  he  went  unwilling  and 
out  of  fear.  He  was  impotent  there.  Later  he  went  to 
Paris,  where  his  brother,  a  master-mason,  the  replica  of  his 
father,  was  leading  a  dissolute  life.  There  the  patient 
remained  a  long  time,  badly  paid  and  helping  his  sister-in- 
law  out  of  pity.  The  brother  often  took  him  along  to  a 
brothel,  where  the  patient  was  always  impotent.  Here  the 
brother  asked  him  to  make  over  to  him  his  inheritance, 
6000  francs.  He  first  consulted  his  second  brother,  who 
was  also  in  Paris,  who  urgently  tried  to  dissuade  him  from 
giving  the  money  to  his  brother,  because  it  would  only  be 
squandered.  Nevertheless  the  patient  gave  his  all  to  his 
brother,  who  indeed  soon  squandered  it.  And  the  second 
brother,  who  would  have  dissuaded  him,  was  also  let  in  for 
500  francs.  To  my  astonished  question  why  he  had  so  light- 
heartedly  given  the  money  to  his  brother  without  any 
guarantee,  he  replied :  he  had  asked  for  it,  he  was  not  a  bit 
sorry  about  the  money ;  he  would  give  him  another  6000 
francs  if  he  had  it.  The  eldest  brother  came  to  grief 
altogether  and  his  wife  divorced  him.  The  patient  returned 
to  Switzerland  and  remained  for  a  year  without  regular 
employment,  often  suffering  from  hunger.  During  this  time 
he  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  family  where  he  became  a 
frequent  visitor.  The  husband  belonged  to  some  peculiar 
sect ;  he  was  a  hypocrite  and  neglected  his  family.  The  wife 
was  elderly,  ill  and  weak,  and  moreover  pregnant.  There 
were  six  children  and  great  poverty.  The  patient  developed 


164  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

warm  affection  for  this  woman  and  divided  with  her  the 
little  he  possessed.  She  brought  him  her  troubles,  and 
said  she  felt  sure  she  would  die  in  childbed.  Then  he 
promised  her  (he  who  possessed  nothing)  to  take  charge  of 
the  children  himself  and  bring  them  up.  The  wife  did  die 
in  childbed.  The  orphanage-board  interfered,  however,  and 
allowed  him  only  one  child.  So  he  had  a  child  but  no 
family,  and  naturally  could  not  bring  it  up  by  himself. 
He  thus  came  to  think  of  marrying.  But  as  he  had  never 
been  in  love  with  any  woman  he  was  in  great  perplexity.  It 
then  occurred  to  him  that  his  elder  brother  was  divorced 
from  his  wife,  and  he  resolved  to  marry  her.  He  wrote  his 
intention  to  her  in  Paris.  She  was  seventeen  years  older 
than  he,  but  not  disinclined  to  the  plan.  She  invited  him  to 
come  to  Paris  to  talk  matters  over.  On  the  eve  of  this 
journey  fate,  however,  willed  that  he  should  run  a  big  iron 
nail  into  his  foot  so  that  he  could  not  travel.  After  a  little 
while,  when  the  wound  was  healed,  he  went  to  Paris,  and  found 
that  he  had  imagined  his  sister-in-law,  and  now  his  fiancee , 
to  be  younger  and  prettier  than  she  really  was.  The  wedding 
took  place,  and  three  months  later  the  first  coitus,  at  his 
wife’s  initiative.  He  himself  had  no  desire  for  it.  They 
brought  up  the  child  together,  he  in  the  Swiss  and  she  in  the 
French  way,  for  she  was  a  French  woman.  At  the  age  of 
nine  the  child  was  run  over  and  killed  by  a  cyclist.  The 
patient  then  felt  very  lonely  and  dismal  at  home.  He  pro¬ 
posed  to  his  wife  that  she  should  adopt  a  young  girl,  where¬ 
upon  she  broke  out  into  a  fury  of  jealousy.  Then  for  the 
first  time  he  fell  in  love  with  a  young  girl,  whilst  at  the  same 
time  the  neurosis  started,  with  deep  depression  and  nervous 
exhaustion,  for  meanwhile  his  life  at  home  had  become  a 
hell. 

My  proposition  to  separate  from  his  wife  was  refused  out 
of  hand,  because  he  could  not  take  upon  himself  to  make  the 
old  woman  unhappy  on  his  account.  He  clearly  prefers  to 
be  tormented  still  further ;  for  it  would  seem  that  the  recollec¬ 
tion  of  his  youth  is  more  precious  to  him  than  any  present 
joys. 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  THE  FATHER  165 


In  this  case  also  the  whole  movement  of  a  life  takes 
place  in  the  magic  circle  of  the  familial  constellation.  The 
relation  to  the  father  is  the  strongest  and  most  momentous 
issue  ;  its  masochistic  homosexual  colouring  stands  out  clearly 
everywhere.  Even  the  unhappy  marriage  is  determined  in 
every  way  through  the  father,  for  the  patient  marries  the 
divorced  wife  of  his  eldest  brother,  which  is  as  if  he  married 
his  mother.  His  wife  is  also  the  representative  of  the  mother- 
surrogate,  of  the  friend  who  died  in  childbed. 

The  neurosis  started  at  the  moment  when  the  libido  had 
obviously  withdrawn  from  this  relationship  of  infantile  con¬ 
stellation,  and  approached,  for  the  first  time,  the  sexual  end 
determined  by  the  individual.  In  this,  as  in  the  previous 
case,  the  familial  constellation  proves  to  be  by  far  the  stronger ; 
the  narrow  field  vouchsafed  by  a  neurosis  is  all  that  remains 
for  the  display  of  individuality. 

Case  8. — A  thirty-six  year  old  peasant  woman,  of  average 
intelligence,  healthy  appearance  and  robust  build,  mother  of 
three  healthy  children.  Comfortable  family  circumstances. 
Patient  comes  to  the  hospital  for  treatment  for  the  follow¬ 
ing  reasons  :  for  some  weeks  she  has  been  terribly  wretched 
and  anxious,  has  been  sleeping  badly,  has  terrifying  dreams, 
and  suffers  also  during  the  day  from  anxiety  and  depression. 
All  these  things  are  admittedly  without  foundation,  she  her¬ 
self  is  surprised  at  them,  and  must  admit  her  husband  is 
perfectly  right  when  he  insists  they  are  all  “  stuff  and  non¬ 
sense.”  All  the  same  she  cannot  get  away  from  them. 
Strange  ideas  come  to  her  too ;  she  is  going  to  die  and  is 
going  to  hell.  She  gets  on  very  well  with  her  husband. 

The  psychoanalytic  examination  of  the  case  immediately 
brought  the  following :  some  weeks  before,  she  happened  to 
take  up  some  religious  tracts  which  had  long  lain  about 
the  house  unread.  There  she  read  that  swearers  would  go 
to  hell.  She  took  this  very  much  to  heart,  and  has  since 
thought  it  incumbent  on  her  to  prevent  people  swearing  or 
she  herself  will  go  to  hell.  About  a  fortnight  before  she 
read  these  tracts,  her  father,  who  lived  with  her,  suddenly 
died  from  a  stroke.  She  was  not  actually  present  at  his 


166  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

death,  but  arrived  when  he  was  already  dead.  Her  terror 
and  grief  were  very  great. 

In  the  days  following  the  death  she  thought  much  about  it 
all,  wondering  why  her  father  had  to  meet  his  end  so  abruptly. 
In  the  midst  of  such  meditations  it  suddenly  occurred  to  her 
that  the  last  words  she  had  heard  her  father  say  were :  “  I 
also  am  one  of  those  who  have  fallen  from  the  cart  into 
the  devil’s  clutches.”  The  remembrance  filled  her  with  grief, 
and  she  recalled  how  often  her  father  had  sworn  savagely. 
She  wondered  then  whether  there  really  were  a  life  after 
death,  and  whether  her  father  were  in  heaven  or  hell.  During 
these  musings  she  came  across  the  tracts  and  began  to  read 
them,  getting  to  the  place  where  it  said  that  swearers  go  to 
hell.  Then  came  upon  her  great  fear  and  terror ;  she  over¬ 
whelmed  herself  with  reproaches,  she  ought  to  have  stopped 
her  father’s  swearing,  deserved  punishment  for  her  neglect. 
She  would  die  and  would  be  condemned  to  hell.  Henceforth 
she  was  full  of  sorrow,  moody,  tormented  her  husband  with 
this  obsessive  idea,  and  renounced  all  joy  and  happiness. 

The  patient’s  life-history  (reproduced  partly  in  her  own 
words)  is  as  follows : — 

She  is  the  youngest  of  five  brothers  and  sisters  and  was 
always  her  father's  favourite.  The  father  gave  her  eveiy- 
thing  she  wanted  if  he  possibly  could.  For  instance,  if  she 
wanted  a  new  dress  and  her  mother  refused  it,  she  could 
be  sure  her  father  would  bring  her  one  next  time  he  went 
to  town.  The  mother  died  rather  early.  At  twenty-four  the 
patient  married  the  man  of  her  choice,  against  her  father  s 
wishes.  The  father  simply  disapproved  of  her  choice  although 
he  had  nothing  particular  against  the  man.  After  the  wedding 
she  made  her  father  come  and  live  with  them.  That  seemed 
a  matter  of  course,  she  said,  since  the  other  relations  had 
never  suggested  having  him  with  them.  The  father  was  a 
quarrelsome  swearer  and  drunkard.  Husband  and  father- 
in-law,  as  may  easily  be  imagined,  got  on  extremely  badly 
together.  The  patient  would  always  meekly  fetch  her  father 
spirits  from  the  inn,  although  this  gave  rise  perpetually  to 
anger  and  altercations.  But  she  finds  her  husband  “  all 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  THE  FATHER  167 

right.”  He  is  a  good,  patient  fellow  with  only  one  failing : 
he  does  not  obey  her  father  enough ;  she  finds  that  incom¬ 
prehensible,  and  would  rather  have  her  husband  knuckle 
under  to  her  father.  All  said  and  done,  father  is  still  father. 
In  the  frequent  quarrels  she  always  took  her  father  s  part. 
But  she  has  nothing  to  say  against  her  husband  and  he  is 
usually  right  in  his  protests,  but  one  must  help  one’s  father. 

Soon  it  began  to  seem  to  her  that  she  had  sinned  against 
her  father  by  marrying  against  his  will,  and  she  often  felt, 
after  one  of  these  incessant  wrangles,  that  her  love  for  her 
husband  had  quite  vanished.  And  since  her  father’s  death 
it  is  impossible  to  love  her  husband  any  longer,  for  his 
disobedience  was  the  most  frequent  occasion  of  her  father  s 
fits  of  raging  and  swearing.  At  one  time  the  quarreling 
became  too  painful  for  the  husband,  and  he  induced  his 
wife  to  find  rooms  for  her  father  elsewhere,  where  he  lived 
for  two  years.  During  this  time  husband  and  wife  lived 
together  peaceably  and  happily.  But  by  degrees  the  patient 
began  to  reproach  herself  for  letting  her  father  live  alone; 
in  spite  of  everything  he  was  her  father.  And  in  the  end, 
despite  the  husband’s  protests,  she  fetched  him  home  again 
because,  as  she  said,  in  truth  she  did  love  her  father  better 
than  her  husband.  Scarcely  was  the  old  man  back  in  the 
house  before  strife  was  renewed.  And  so  it  went  on  till 
the  father’s  sudden  death. 

After  this  recital  she  broke  out  into  a  whole  series  of 
lamentations  :  she  must  separate  from  her  husband :  she 
would  have  done  it  long  ago  if  it  were  not  for  the  children. 
She  had  indeed  done  an  ill-deed,  committed  a  very  great  sin 
when  she  married  her  husband  against  her  father’s  wish.  She 
ought  to  have  taken  the  man  whom  her  father  had  wanted 
her  to  have.  He  certainly  would  have  obeyed  her  father  and 
then  everything  would  have  been  right.  Oh,  her  husband 
was  not  by  a  long  way  so  kind  as  her  father,  she  could  do 
anything  with  her  father,  but  not  with  her  husband.  Her 
father  had  given  her  everything  she  wanted.  Now  she  would 
best  of  all  like  to  die ,  so  that  she  might  be  with  her  father. 

When  this  outburst  was  over,  I  inquired  eagerly  on  what 


168 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


grounds  she  had  refused  the  husband  suggested  by  her 
father. 

The  father,  a  small  peasant  on  a  lean  little  farm,  had 
taken  as  a  servant,  just  at  the  time  when  his  youngest 
daughter  came  into  the  world,  a  miserable  little  boy,  a 
foundling.  The  boy  developed  in  most  unpleasant  fashion : 
he  was  so  stupid  that  he  could  not  learn  to  read  or  write 
or  even  speak  quite  properly.  He  was  an  absolute  idiot. 
As  he  approached  manhood  there  developed  on  his  neck 
a  series  of  ulcers,  some  of  which  opened  and  continually 
discharged  pus,  giving  such  a  dirty,  ugly  creature  a  horrible 
appearance.  His  intelligence  did  not  grow  with  his  years, 
so  he  stayed  on  as  servant  in  the  peasant’s  house  without 
any  recognised  wage. 

To  this  youth  the  father  wanted  to  marry  his  favourite 
daughter. 

The  girl,  fortunately,  had  not  been  disposed  to  yield, 
but  now  she  regretted  it,  since  this  idiot  would  unquestionably 
have  been  more  obedient  to  her  father  than  her  good  man 
had  been. 

Here,  as  in  the  foregoing  case,  it  must  be  clearly  under¬ 
stood  that  the  patient  is  not  at  all  weak-minded.  Both  possess 
normal  intelligence,  which  unfortunately  the  blinkers  of  the 
infantile  constellation  prevent  their  using.  That  appears 
with  quite  remarkable  clearness  in  this  patient’s  life-story. 
The  father’s  authority  is  never  questioned !  It  makes  not 
the  least  difference  that  he  is  a  quarrelsome  drunkard,  the 
obvious  cause  of  all  the  quarrels  and  disturbances ;  on  the 
contrary,  the  lawful  husband  must  give  way  to  the  bogey, 
and  at  last  our  patient  even  comes  to  regret  that  her  father 
did  not  succeed  in  completely  destroying  her  life’s  happiness. 
So  now  she  sets  about  doing  that  herself  through  her  neurosis, 
which  compels  in  her  the  wish  to  die,  that  she  may  go  to 
hell,  whither,  be  it  noted,  the  father  has  already  betaken 
himself. 

If  we  are  ever  disposed  to  see  some  demonic  power  at 
work  controlling  mortal  destiny,  surely  we  can  see  it  here 
in  these  melancholy  silent  tragedies  working  themselves  out 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  THE  FATHEE  169 


slowly,  torturingly,  in  the  sick  souls  of  our  neurotics.  Some, 
step  by  step,  continually  struggling  against  the  unseen 
powers,  do  free  themselves  from  the  clutches  of  the  demon 
who  forces  his  unsuspecting  victims  from  one  savage  mis¬ 
chance  to  another :  others  rise  up  and  win  to  freedom,  only 
to  be  dragged  back  later  to  the  old  paths,  caught  in  the 
noose  of  the  neurosis.  You  cannot  even  maintain  that  these 
unhappy  people  are  neurotic  or  “  degenerates.”  If  we  normal 
people  examine  our  lives  from  the  psychoanalytic  standpoint, 
we  too  perceive  how  a  mighty  hand  guides  us  insensibly  to 
our  destiny  and  not  always  is  this  hand  a  kindly  one.1  We 
often  call  it  the  hand  of  God  or  of  the  Devil,  for  the  power 
of  the  infantile  constellation  has  become  mighty  during  the 
course  of  the  centuries  in  affording  support  and  proof  to  all 
the  religions. 

But  all  this  does  not  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  we  must  cast 
the  blame  of  inherited  sins  upon  our  parents.  A  sensitive 
child  whose  intuition  is  only  too  quick  in  reflecting  in  his 
own  soul  all  the  excesses  of  his  parents  must,  lay  the  blame 
for  his  fate  on  his  own  characteristics.  But,  as  our  last  case 
shows,  this  is  not  always  so,  for  the  parents  can  (and 
unfortunately  only  too  often  do)  fortify  the  evil  in  the  child’s 
soul,  preying  upon  the  child’s  ignorance  to  make  him  the 
slave  of  their  complexes.  In  our  case  this  attempt  on  the 
part  of  the  father  is  quite  obvious.  It  is  perfectly  clear  why 
he  wanted  to  marry  his  daughter  to  this  brutish  creature :  he 
wanted  to  keep  her  and  make  her  his  slave  for  ever.  What  he 
did  is  but  a  crass  exaggeration  of  what  is  done  by  thousands 
of  so-called  respectable,  educated  people,  who  have  their  own 
share  in  this  educational  dust-heap  of  enforced  discipline.  The 

1  Between  whiles  we  believe  ourselves  masters  of  our  acts  at  any  given 
moment.  But  when  we  look  back  along  our  life’s  path  and  fix  our  eyes 
chiefly  upon  our  unfortunate  steps  and  their  consequences,  often  we  cannot 
understand  how  we  came  to  do  this  and  leave  that  undone,  and  it  seems  as 
if  some  power  outside  ourselves  had  directed  our  steps.  Shakespeare  says ; 

“  Fate  show  thy  force  :  ourselves  we  do  not  owe ; 

What  is  decreed  must  be,  and  be  this  so !  ” 

Schopenhauer,  “Ueber  die  anscheinende  Absichtlichkeit  im  Schicksale  des 
Einzelnen.  Parerga  und  Paralipomena.” 


170 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


fathers  who  allow  their  children  no  independent  possession  of 
their  own  emotions,  who  fondle  their  daughters  with  ill- 
concealed  eroticism  and  tyrannical  passion,  who  keep  their 
sons  in  leading-strings,  force  them  into  callings  and  finally 
marry  them  off  “  suitably,”  and  the  mothers  who  even  in 
the  cradle  excite  their  children  with  unhealthy  tenderness, 
later  on  make  them  into  slavish  dolls,  and  then  at  last,  out 
of  jealousy,  destroy  their  children’s  love-life  fundamentally, 
they  all  act  not  otherwise  than  this  stupid  and  brutal  boor. 

It  will  be  asked,  wherein  lies  the  parents’  magic  power 
to  bind  their  children  to  themselves,  as  with  fetters,  often  for 
the  whole  of  their  lives  ?  The  psychoanalyst  knows  that  it 
is  nothing  but  the  sexuality  on  both  sides. 

We  are  always  trying  not  to  admit  the  child’s  sexuality. 
That  view  only  comes  from  wilful  ignorance,  which  happens 
to  be  very  prevalent  again  just  now.1 

I  have  not  given  any  real  analysis  of  these  cases.  We 
therefore  do  not  know  what  happened  within  the  hearts  of 
these  puppets  of  fate  when  they  were  children.  A  profound 
insight  into  a  child’s  mind  as  it  grows  and  lives,  hitherto 
unattainable,  is  given  in  Freud’s  contribution  to  the  first 
half-yearly  volume  of  Jahrbucli  fur  Psyclioanalytische  u.  Psycho- 
pathologische  Forscliungen.  If  I  venture,  after  Freud’s  masterly 
presentation,  to  offer  another  small  contribution  to  the  study 
of  the  child-mind  it  is  because  the  psychoanalytic  records  of 
cases  seem  to  me  always  valuable. 

Case  4. — An  eight  year  old  boy,  intelligent,  rather  delicate- 
looking,  is  brought  to  me  by  his  mother,  on  account  of 
enuresis.  During  the  consultation  the  child  always  hangs 
on  to  his  mother,  a  pretty,  youthful  woman.  The  parents’ 

1  This  was  seen  in  the  Amsterdam  Congress  of  1907,  where  a  prominent 
French  savant  assured  us  that  the  Freudian  theory  was  but  “  une  plaisan- 
terie.”  This  gentleman  has  demonstrably  neither  read  Freud’s  latest  works 
nor  mine,  he  knows  less  about  the  subject  than  a  little  child.  This  opinion, 
so  admirably  grounded,  ended  with  the  applause  of  a  well-known  German 
professor.  One  can  but  bow  before  such  thoroughness.  At  the  same  Congress 
another  well-known  German  neurologist  immortalised  his  name  with  the 
following  intellectual  reasoning:  “If  hysteria  on  Freud’s  conception  does 
indeed  rest  on  repressed  affects,  then  the  whole  German  army  must  be 
hysterical.” 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  THE  FATHER  171 

marriage  is  a  happy  one,  but  the  father  is  strict,  and  the  boy 
(the  eldest  child)  is  rather  afraid  of  him.  The  mother  com¬ 
pensates  for  the  father’s  strictness  by  corresponding  tenderness, 
to  which  the  boy  responds  so  much  that  he  never  gets  away 
from  his  mother’s  apron-strings.  He  never  plays  with  his 
schoolfellows,  never  goes  alone  into  the  street  unless  he  has 
to  go  to  school.  He  fears  the  boys’  roughness  and  violence 
and  plays  thoughtful  games  at  home  or  helps  his  mother  with 
housework.  He  is  extremely  jealous  of  his  father.  He  cannot 
bear  it  when  the  father  shows  tenderness  to  the  mother. 

I  took  the  boy  aside  and  asked  him  about  his  dreams. 

He  dreams  very  often  of  a  black  snake  which  wants  to  bite 
his  face .  Then  he  cries  out,  and  his  mother  has  to  come  from 
the  next  room  to  his  bedside. 

In  the  evening  he  goes  quietly  to  bed.  But  when  he  falls 
asleep  it  seems  to  him  that  a  wicked  black  man  with  a  sabre  or 
gun  lies  on  his  bed — a  tall,  thin  man  who  wants  to  kill  him. 

His  parents  sleep  in  the  adjoining  room.  It  often  seems 
to  him  that  something  dreadful  is  going  on  there,  as  if  there 
are  great  black  snakes  or  wicked  men  who  want  to  kill  his 
Mamma.  Then  he  has  to  cry  out  and  his  mother  comes  to 

comfort  him. 

Every  time  he  wets  his  bed,  he  calls  his  mother,  who  has 

to  settle  him  down  again  in  dry  things. 

The  father  is  a  tall  thin  man.  Every  morning  he  stands 
at  the  washstand  naked  in  full  view  of  the  child,  to  perform 
a  thorough  ablution.  The  child  also  tells  me  that  at  night 
he  is  often  suddenly  waked  from  sleep  by  a  strange  sound  in 
the  next  room ;  then  he  is  always  horribly  afraid  as  if  some¬ 
thing  dreadful  were  going  on  in  there,  some  struggle  but  his 
mother  quiets  him,  says  there’s  nothing  to  be  afraid  of. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  see  whence  comes  the  black  snake  and 
who  the  wicked  man  is,  and  what  is  happening  in  the  next 
room.  It  is  equally  easy  to  understand  the  boy’s  aim  when 
he  calls  out  for  his  mother :  he  is  jealous  and  separates  her 
from  the  father.  This  he  does  also  in  the  daytime  whenever 
he  sees  his  father  caressing  her.  So  far  the  boy  is  simply  his 
father’s  rival  for  his  mother’s  love. 


172  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

But  now  comes  the  circumstance  that  the  snake  and  the 
bad  man  also  threaten  him,  there  happens  to  him  the  same 
thing  as  to  his  mother  in  the  next  room.  Thus  he  identifies 
himself  with  his  mother  and  proposes  a  similar  relationship 
for  himself  with  his  father.  That  is  owing  to  his  homosexual 
component  which  feels  like  a  woman  towards  the  father. 
What  enuresis  signifies  in  this  case  is,  from  the  Freudian 
standpoint,  not  difficult  to  understand.  The  micturition 
dream  throws  light  upon  it.  Let  me  refer  to  an  analysis  of 
the  same  kind  in  my  article :  “  L’analyse  des  reves,  Annee 
psychologique  ”  (1909).  Enuresis  must  be  regarded  as  an 
infantile  sex-surrogate ;  in  the  dream-life  of  adults  too  it  is 
easily  used  as  a  cloak  for  the  urge  of  sexual  desire. 

This  little  example  shows  what  goes  on  in  the  mind  of  an 
eight  year  old  boy,  just  when  he  is  in  a  position  of  dependence 
upon  his  parents,  but  the  blame  is  also  partly  due  to  the  too 
strict  father  and  the  too  tender  mother. 

The  infantile  attitude  here,  it  is  evident,  is  nothing  but 
infantile  sexuality.  If  now  we  survey  all  the  far-reaching 
possibilities  of  the  infantile  constellation  we  are  forced  to  say 
that  in  essence  our  life's  fate  is  identical  with  the  fate  of  our 
sexuality.  If  Freud  and  his  school  devote  themselves  first 
and  foremost  to  tracing  out  the  individual’s  sexuality  it  is 
certainly  not  in  order  to  excite  piquant  sensations,  but  to 
gain  a  deeper  insight  into  the  driving  forces  that  determine 
that  individual’s  fate.  In  this  we  are  not  saying  too  much, 
rather  understating  the  case.  If  we  can  strip  off  the  veils 
shrouding  the  problems  of  individual  destiny,  we  can  after¬ 
wards  widen  our  view  from  the  history  of  the  individual  to 
the  history  of  nations.  And  first  of  all  we  can  look  at  the 
history  of  religions,  at  the  history  of  the  phantasy-systems 
of  whole  peoples  and  epochs.  The  religion  of  the  Old  Testa¬ 
ment  elevated  the  paterfamilias  to  the  Jehovah  of  the  Jews 
whom  the  people  had  to  obey  in  fear  and  dread.  The 
Patriarchs  are  an  intermediate  stage  towards  the  deity. 
The  neurotic  fear  and  dread  of  the  Jewish  religion,  the 
imperfect,  not  to  say  unsuccessful  attempt  at  the  sublimation 
of  a  still  too  barbarous  people,  gave  rise  to  the  excessive 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  THE  FATHER  178 


severity  of  the  Mosaic  Law,  the  ceremonial  constraint  of  the 
neurotic.1 

Only  the  prophets  succeeded  in  freeing  themselves  from 
this  constraint;  in  them  the  identification  with  Jehovah,  the 
complete  sublimation,  is  successful.  They  became  the  fathers 
of  the  people.  Christ,  the  fulfilment  of  prophecy,  put  an  end 
to  this  fear  of  God  and  taught  mankind  that  the  true  relation 
to  the  Godhead  is  “  love.”  Thus  he  destroyed  the  cere¬ 
monial  constraint  of  the  Law  and  gave  the  example  of  a 
personal  loving  relationship  to  God.  The  later  imperfect 
sublimation  of  the  Christian  Mass  leads  again  to  the  cere¬ 
monial  of  the  Church  from  which  occasionally  the  minds 
capable  of  sublimation  among  the  saints  and  reformers  have 
been  able  to  free  themselves.  Not  without  cause  therefore 
does  modern  theology  speak  of  “inner”  or  “personal 
experiences  as  having  great  enfranchising  power,  for  always 
the  ardour  of  love  transmutes  the  dread  and  constraint  into 

a  higher,  freer  type  of  feeling. 

What  we  see  in  the  development  of  the  world-process, 
the  original  source  of  the  changes  in  the  Godhead,  we  see 
also  in  the  individual.  Parental  power  guides  the  child  like 
a  higher  controlling  fate.  But  when  he  begins  to  grow  up, 
there  begins  also  the  conflict  between  the  infantile  constel¬ 
lation  and  the  individuality,  the  parental  influence  dating 
from  the  prehistoric  (infantile)  period  is  repressed,  sinks 
into  the  Unconscious  but  is  not  thereby  eliminated;  by 
invisible  threads  it  directs  the  individual  creations  of  the 
ripening  mind  as  they  appear.  Like  everything  that  has 
passed  into  the  Unconscious,  the  infantile  constellation  sends 
up  into  consciousness  dim,  foreboding  feelings,  feelings  of 
mysterious  guidance  and  opposing  influences.  Here  are  the 
roots  of  the  first  religious  sublimations.  In  the  place  of  the 
father,  with  his  constellating  virtues  and  faults,  there 
appears,  on  the  one  hand,  an  altogether  sublime  deity,  on  the 
other  the  devil,  in  modern  times  for  the  most  part  largely 
whittled  away  by  the  perception  of  one’s  own  moral  .re¬ 
sponsibility.  Elevated  love  is  attributed  to  the  former,  a 

1  Gf.  Freud,  “  Zeitschrift  fUr  Religionspsychologie,”  1907. 


174 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


lower  sexuality  to  the  latter.  As  soon  as  we  approach  the 
territory  of  the  neurosis,  the  antithesis  is  stretched  to  the 
utmost  limit.  God  becomes  the  symbol  of  the  most  complete 
sexual  repression,  the  Devil  the  symbol  of  sexual  lust.  Thus 
it  is  that  the  conscious  expression  of  the  father  constellation, 
like  every  expression  of  an  unconscious  complex  when  it 
appears  in  consciousness,  gets  its  Janus-face,  its  positive  and 
its  negative  components.  A  curious,  beautiful  example  of 
this  crafty  play  of  the  Unconscious  is  seen  in  the  love- 
episode  in  the  Book  of  Tobias.  Sarah,  the  daughter  of 
Baguel  in  Ecbatana,  desires  to  marry ;  but  her  evil  fate  wills 
it  that  seven  times,  one  after  another,  she  chooses  a  husband 
who  dies  on  the  marriage-night.  The  evil  spirit  Asmodi,  by 
whom  she  is  persecuted,  kills  these  husbands.  She  prays  to 
Jehovah  to  let  her  die  rather  than  suffer  this  shame  again. 
She  is  despised  even  by  her  father’s  maid-servants.  The 
eighth  bridegroom,  Tobias,  is  sent  to  her  by  God.  He  too  is 
led  into  the  bridal-chamber.  Then  the  old  Raguel,  who  has 
only  pretended  to  go  to  bed,  gets  up  again  and  goes  out  and 
digs  his  son-in-law’s  grave  beforehand,  and  in  the  morning 
sends  a  maid  to  the  bridal-chamber  to  make  sure  of  the 
expected  death.  But  this  time  Asmodi’s  part  is  played  out, 
Tobias  is  alive. 

Unfortunately  medical  etiquette  forbids  me  to  give  a  case 
of  hysteria  which  fits  in  exactly  with  the  above  instance, 
except  that  there  were  not  seven  husbands,  but  only  three, 
ominously  chosen  under  all  the  signs  of  the  infantile  con¬ 
stellation.  Our  first  case  too  comes  under  this  category  and 
in  our  third  we  see  the  old  peasant  at  work  preparing  to 
dedicate  his  daughter  to  a  like  fate. 

As  a  pious  and  obedient  daughter  (compare  her  beautiful 
prayer  in  chapter  iii.)  Sarah  has  brought  about  the  usual 
sublimation  and  cleavage  of  the  father-complex  and  on  the 
one  side  has  elevated  her  childish  love  to  the  adoration  of 
God,  on  the  other  has  turned  the  obsessive  force  of  her 
father’s  attraction  into  the  persecuting  demon  Asmodi. 
The  legend  is  so  beautifully  worked  out  that  it  displays  the 
father  in  his  twofold  aspect,  on  the  one  hand  as  the 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  THE  FATHEK  175 

inconsolable  father  of  the  bride,  on  the  other  as  the  secret 
digger  of  his  son-in-law’s  grave,  whose  fate  he  foresees.  This 
beautiful  fable  has  become  a  cherished  paradigm  for  my 
analysis,  for  by  no  means  infrequent  are  such  cases  where 
the  father-demon  has  laid  his  hand  upon  his  daughter,  so 
that  her  whole  life  long,  even  when  she  does  mairy,  there  is 
never  a  true  union,  because  her  husband  s  image  never 
succeeds  in  obliterating  the  unconscious  and  eternally 
operative  infantile  father-ideal.  This  is  valid  not  only  for 
daughters,  but  equally  for  sons.  A  beautiful  instance  of 
such  a  father-constellation  is  given  in  Dr.  Brill’s  recently 
published  :  “  Psychological  factors  in  dementia  pr^cox.  An 
analysis.”1 

In  my  experience  the  father  is  usually  the  decisive  and 
dangerous  object  of  the  child’s  phantasy,  and  if  ever  it 
happens  to  be  the  mother,  I  have  been  able  to  discover 
behind  her  a  grandfather  to  whom  she  belonged  in  her  heart. 

I  must  leave  this  question  open :  my  experience  does  not 
go  far  enough  to  warrant  a  decision.  It  is  to  be  hoped 
that  the  experience  of  the  coming  years  will  sink  deeper 
shafts  into  this  still  dark  land  which  I  have  been  able  but 
momentarily  to  light  up,  and  will  discover  to  us  more  of 
the  secret  workshop  of  that  fate-deciding  demon  of  whom 
Horace  says : 

“  Scit  Genuis  natale  comes  qui  temperat  astrum, 

Naturae  deus  humanae,  mortalis  in  unum, 

Quodque  caput,  vultu  mutabilis,  albus  et  ater.” 


1  Journal  of  Abnormal  Psychology ,  vol.  III.,  p.  219,  1908. 


CHAPTER  IV 


A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF 

RUMOUR 1 

About  a  year  ago  the  school  authorities  in  N.  asked  me  to 
give  a  professional  opinion  as  to  the  mental  condition  of 
Marie  X.,  a  thirteen  year  old  schoolgirl.  Marie  had  been 
expelled  from  school  because  she  had  been  instrumental  in 
originating  an  ugly  rumour,  spreading  gossip  about  her  class- 
teacher.  The  punishment  hit  the  child,  and  especially  her 
parents,  very  hard,  so  that  the  school  authorities  were  inclined 
to  readmit  her  if  protected  by  a  medical  opinion.  The  facts 
were  as  follows : — 

The  teacher  had  heard  indirectly  that  the  girls  were 
attributing  some  equivocal  sexual  story  to  him.  On  investiga¬ 
tion  it  was  found  that  Marie  X.  had  one  day  related  a  dream 
to  three  girl-friends  which  ran  somewhat  as  follows  : — 

“  The  class  was  going  to  the  swimming  baths.  I  had  to 
go  to  the  boys’  because  there  was  no  more  room.  Then  we 
swam  a  long  way  out  in  the  lake  (asked  who  did  so  :  ‘  Lina  P., 
the  teacher,  and  myself’).  A  steamer  came  along.  The 
teacher  asked  us  if  we  wished  to  get  into  it.  We  came  to 
K.  A  wedding  was  just  going  on  there  (asked  whose :  *  a 
friend  of  the  teacher’s’).  We  were  also  to  take  part  in  it. 
Then  we  went  for  a  journey  (who?  ‘I,  Lina  P.,  and  the 
teacher  ’).  It  was  like  a  honeymoon  journey.  We  came  to 
Andermatt,  and  there  was  no  more  room  in  the  hotel,  so  we 
were  obliged  to  pass  the  night  in  a  barn.  The  wToman  got  a 
child  there,  and  the  teacher  became  the  godfather.” 

When  I  examined  the  child  she  told  this  dream.  The 
teacher  had  likewise  related  the  dream  in  writing.  In  this 

1  “  Zentralblatt  fur  Psychoanalyse,”  1911,  vol.  I.,  p.  81. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  BUMOUE 


177 


earlier  version  the  obvious  blanks  after  the  word  “  steamer  ” 
in  the  above  text  were  filled  up  as  follows :  “  We  got  up. 
Soon  we  felt  cold.  An  old  man  gave  us  a  blouse  which  the 
teacher  put  on.”  On  the  other  hand,  there  was  an  omission 
of  the  passage  about  finding  no  room  in  the  hotel,  and  being 
obliged  to  pass  the  night  in  the  barn. 

The  child  told  the  dream  immediately,  not  only  to  her 
three  friends  but  also  to  her  mother.  The  mother  repeated  it 
to  me  with  only  trifling  differences  from  the  two  versions  given 
above.  The  teacher,  in  his  further  investigations,  carried  out 
with  deepest  misgivings,  failed,  like  myself,  to  get  indications 
of  any  more  dangerous  material.  There  is  therefore  a  strong 
probability  that  the  original  recital  could  not  have  run  very 
differently.  (The  passage  about  the  cold  and  the  blouse 
seems  to  be  an  early  interpolation,  for  it  is  an  attempt  to 
supply  a  logical  relationship.  Coming  out  of  the  water  one 
is  wet,  has  on  only  a  bathing  dress,  and  is  therefore  unable 
to  take  part  in  a  wedding  before  putting  on  some  clothes.) 
At  first,  of  course,  the  teacher  would  not  allow  that  the  whole 
affair  had  arisen  only  out  of  a  dream.  He  rather  suspected 
it  to  be  an  invention.  He  was,  however,  obliged  to  admit 
that  the  innocent  telling  of  the  dream  was  apparently  a 
fact,  and  that  it  was  unnatural  to  regard  the  child  as 
capable  of  such  guile  as  to  indicate  some  sexual  equivocation 
in  this  disguised  form.  For  a  time  he  wavered  between  the 
view  that  it  was  a  question  of  cunning  invention,  and  the 
view  that  it  was  really  a  question  of  a  dream,  innocent  in 
itself,  which  had  been  understood  by  the  other  children  in 
a  sexual  way.  When  his  first  indignation  wore  off  he  con¬ 
cluded  that  Marie  X.’s  guilt  could  not  be  so  great,  and 
that  her  phantasies  and  those  of  her  companions  had  con¬ 
tributed  to  the  rumour.  He  then  did  something  really 
valuable.  He  placed  Marie’s  companions  under  supervision, 
and  made  them  all  write  out  what  they  had  heard  of  the 
dream. 

Before  turning  our  attention  to  this,  let  us  cast  a  glance 
at  the  dream  analytically.  In  the  first  place,  we  must  accept 
the  facts  and  agree  with  the  teacher  that  we  have  to  do  with 

12 


178 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


a  dream  and  not  with  an  invention  ;  for  the  latter  the  am¬ 
biguity  is  too  great.  Conscious  invention  tries  to  create  un¬ 
broken  transitions ;  the  dream  takes  no  account  of  this,  but 
sets  to  work  regardless  of  gaps,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  here 
give  occasion  for  interpolations  during  the  conscious  revision. 
The  gaps  are  very  significant.  In  the  swimming  bath  there 
is  no  picture  of  undressing,  being  unclothed,  nor  any  detailed 
description  of  their  being  together  in  the  water.  The  omission 
of  being  dressed  on  the  ship  is  compensated  for  by  the  above- 
mentioned  interpolation,  but  only  for  the  teacher,  thus  indi¬ 
cating  that  his  nakedness  was  in  most  urgent  need  of  cover. 
The  detailed  description  of  the  wedding  is  wanting,  and  the 
transition  from  the  steamer  to  the  wedding  is  abrupt.  The 
reason  for  stopping  overnight  in  the  barn  at  Andermatt  is 
not  to  be  found  at  first.  The  parallel  to  this  is,  however, 
the  want  of  room  in  the  swimming-bath,  which  made  it 
necessary  to  go  into  the  men’s  department ;  in  the  hotel  the 
want  of  room  again  emphasises  the  separation  of  the  sexes. 
The  picture  of  the  barn  is  most  insufficiently  filled  out.  The 
birth  suddenly  follows  and  quite  without  sequence.  The 
teacher  as  godfather  is  extremely  equivocal.  Marie’s  role  in 
the  whole  story  is  throughout  of  secondary  importance, 
indeed  she  is  only  a  spectator. 

All  this  has  the  appearance  of  a  genuine  dream,  and  those 
of  my  readers  who  have  a  wide  experience  of  the  dreams  of 
girls  of  this  age,  will  assuredly  confirm  this  view.  Hence  the 
meaning  of  the  dream  is  so  simple  that  we  may  quietly  leave 
its  interpretation  to  her  school  companions,  whose  declara¬ 
tions  are  as  follows : 


Aural  Witnesses. 

Witness  I. — “  M.  dreamed  that  she  and  Lina  P.  had  gone 
swimming  with  our  teacher.  After  they  had  swum  out  in  the 
lake  pretty  far,  M.  said  she  could  not  swim  any  further  as  her 
foot  hurt  her  so  much.  The  teacher  said  she  might  sit  on  my 1 
back.  M.  got  up  and  they  swam  out.  After  a  time  a  steamer 


1  Author’s  italics. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RUMOUR 


179 


came  along  and  they  got  up  on  it.  Our  teacher  seems  to  have 
had  a  rope  by  which  he  tied  M.  and  L.  together  and  dragged 
them  out  into  the  lake.  They  travelled  thus  as  far  as  Z., 
where  they  stepped  out.  But  now  they  had  no  clothes  on. 
The  teacher  bought  a  jacket,  whilst  M.  and  L.  got  a  long, 
thick  veil,  and  all  three  walked  up  the  street  along  the  lake. 
This  was  when  the  wedding  was  going  on.  Presently  they 
met  the  party.  The  bride  had  on  a  blue  silk  dress  but  no 
veil.  She  asked  M.  and  L.  if  they  would  be  kind  enough  to 
give  her  their  veil.  M.  and  L.  gave  it,  and  in  return  they 
were  allowed  to  go  to  the  wedding.  They  went  into  the  Sun 
Inn.  Afterwards  they  went  a  honeymoon  journey  to  Ander- 
matt ;  I  do  not  know  now  whether  they  went  to  the  Inn  at  A. 
or  at  Z.  There  they  got  coffee,  potatoes,  honey,  and  butter. 

I  must  not  say  any  more,  only  the  teacher  finally  was 
made  godfather. 

Remarks . — The  round-about  story  concerning  the  want  of 
room  in  the  swimming-bath  is  absent ;  Marie  goes  direct  with 
her  teacher  to  the  bath.  Their  persons  are  more  closely 
bound  together  in  the  water  by  means  of  the  rope  fastening 
the  teacher  and  the  two  girls  together.  The  ambiguity  of 
the  “  getting  up  ”  in  the  first  story  has  other  consequences 
here,  for  the  part  about  the  steamer  in  the  first  story  now 
occurs  in  two  places ;  in  the  first  the  teacher  takes  Marie 
on  his  back.  The  delightful  little  slip  “  she  could  sit  on 
my  back  ”  (instead  of  his),  shows  the  real  part  taken  by 
the  narrator  herself  in  this  scene.  This  makes  it  clear  why 
the  dream  brings  the  steamer  somewhat  abruptly  into  action, 
in  order  to  give  an  innocent,  harmless  turn  to  the  equivocal 
“  getting  up,”  instead  of  another  which  is  common,  for  instance, 
in  music-hall  songs.  The  passage  about  the  want  of  clothing, 
the  uncertainty  of  which  has  been  already  noticed,  arouses 
the  special  interest  of  the  narrator.  The  teacher  buys  a 
jacket,  the  girls  get  a  long  veil  (such  as  one  only  wears  in 
case  of  death  or  at  weddings).  That  the  latter  is  meant  is 
shown  by  the  remark  that  the  bride  had  none  (it  is  the 
bride  who  wears  the  veil).  The  narrator,  a  girl  friend  of 
Marie,  here  helps  the  dreamer  to  dream  further  :  the  possession 


180 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


of  the  veil  designates  the  bride  or  the  brides,  Marie  and 
Lina.  Whatever  is  shocking  or  immoral  in  this  situation  is 
relieved  by  the  girls  giving  up  the  veil;  it  then  takes  an 
innocent  turn.  The  narrator  follows  the  same  mechanism  in 
the  cloaking  of  the  equivocal  scene  at  Andermatt ;  there  is 
nothing  but  nice  food,  coffee,  potatoes,  honey,  butter ;  a 
turning  back  to  the  infantile  life  according  to  the  well-known 
method.  The  conclusion  is  apparently  very  abrupt :  the 
teacher  becomes  a  godfather. 

Witness  II. — M.  dreamt  she  had  gone  bathing  with  L.  P. 
and  the  teacher.  Far  out  in  the  lake  M.  said  to  the  teacher 
that  her  leg  was  hurting  her  very  much.  Then  the  teacher 
said  she  could  get  up  on  him.  I  don’t  know  now  whether 
the  last  sentence  was  really  so  told,  but  I  think  so.  As 
there  was  just  then  a  ship  on  the  lake  the  teacher  said  she 
should  swim  as  far  as  the  ship  and  then  get  in.  I  don’t 
remember  exactly  how  it  went  on.  Then  the  teacher  or  M., 
I  don’t  really  remember  which,  said  they  would  get  out  at  Z. 
and  run  home.  Then  the  teacher  called  out  to  two  gentle¬ 
men  who  had  just  been  bathing  there,  that  they  might  carry 
the  children  to  land.  Then  L.  P.  sat  up  on  one  man,  and  M. 
on  the  other  fat  man,  and  the  teacher  held  on  to  the  fat  man’s 
leg  and  swam  after  them.  Arrived  on  land  they  ran  home. 
On  the  way  the  teacher  met  his  friend  who  had  a  wedding. 
M.  said :  “  It  was  then  the  fashion  to  go  on  foot,  not  in  a 
carriage.”  Then  the  bride  said  she  must  now  go  along  also. 
Then  the  teacher  said  it  would  be  nice  if  the  two  girls  gave 
the  bride  their  black  veils,  which  they  had  got  on  the  way. 
I  can’t  now  remember  how.  The  children  gave  it  her,  and 
the  bride  said  they  were  really  dear  generous  children. 
Then  they  went  on  further  and  put  up  at  the  Sun  Hotel. 
There  they  got  something  to  eat,  I  don’t  know  exactly  what. 
Then  they  went  to  a  barn  and  danced.  All  the  men  had 
taken  off  their  coats  except  the  teacher.  Then  the  bride  said 
he  ought  to  take  off  his  coat  also.  Then  the  teacher  hesi¬ 
tated  but  finally  did  so.  Then  the  teacher  was  .  .  .  Then 
the  teacher  said  he  was  cold.  I  must  not  tell  any  more ;  it 
is  improper.  That’s  all  I  heard  of  the  dream. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OE  RUMOUR 


181 


Remarks. — The  narrator  pays  special  attention  to  the 
getting  up,  but  is  uncertain  whether  in  the  original  it  referred 
to  getting  up  on  the  teacher  or  the  steamer.  This  uncertainty 
is,  however,  amply  compensated  for  by  the  elaborate  inven¬ 
tion  of  the  two  strangers  who  take  the  girls  upon  their  backs. 
The  getting  up  is  too  valuable  a  thought  for  the  narrator  to 
surrender,  but  she  is  troubled  by  the  idea  of  the  teacher 
seeing  the  object.  The  want  of  clothing  likewise  arouses 
much  interest.  The  bride’s  veil  has,  it  is  true,  become  the 
black  veil  of  mourning  (naturally  in  order  to  conceal  anything 
indelicate).  There  is  not  only  no  innocent  twisting,  but  it 
is  conspicuously  virtuous  (“dear,  generous  children”);  the 
amoral  wish  has  become  changed  into  virtue  which  receives 
special  emphasis,  arousing  suspicion  as  does  every  accentu¬ 
ated  virtue. 

This  narrator  exuberantly  fills  in  the  blanks  in  the  scene 
of  the  barn:  the  men  take  off  their  coats  ;  the  teacher  also, 
and  is  therefore  .  .  .  i.e.  naked  and  hence  cold.  Whereupon 
it  becomes  too  improper. 

The  narrator  has  correctly  recognised  the  parallels  which 
were  suspected  in  the  criticisms  of  the  original  dream ;  she 
has  filled  in  the  scene  about  the  undressing  which  belongs  to 
the  bathing,  for  it  must  finally  come  out  that  the  girls  are 
together  with  the  naked  teacher. 

Witness  III. — M.  told  me  she  had  dreamt :  Once  I  went 
to  the  baths  but  there  was  no  room  for  me.  The  teacher 
took  me  into  his  dressing-room.  I  undressed  and  went 
bathing.  I  swam  until  I  reached  the  bank.  Then  I  met  the 
teacher.  He  said  would  I  not  like  to  swim  across  the  lake 
with  him.  I  went,  and  L.  P.  also.  We  swam  out  and  were 
soon  in  the  middle  of  the  lake.  I  did  not  want  to  swim  any 
further.  Now  I  can’t  remember  it  exactly.  Soon  a  ship  came 
up,  and  we  got  up  on  the  ship.  The  teacher  said,  “I  am 
cold,”  and  a  sailor  gave  us  an  old  shirt.  The  three  of  us 
each  tore  a  piece  of  the  shirt  away.  I  fastened  it  round  the 
neck.  Then  we  left  the  ship  and  swam  away  towards  K. 

L.  P.  and  I  did  not  want  to  go  further,  and  two  fat  men 
took  us  upon  their  backs.  In  K.  we  got  a  veil  which  we  put 


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on.  In  K.  we  went  into  the  street.  The  teacher  met  his 
friend  who  invited  us  to  the  wedding.  We  went  to  the  Sun 
and  played  games.  We  also  danced  the  polonaise ;  now  I 
don’t  remember  exactly.  Then  we  went  for  a  honeymoon 
journey  to  Andermatt.  The  teacher  had  no  money  with  him, 
and  stole  some  chestnuts  in  Andermatt.  The  teacher  said, 
“  I  am  so  glad  that  I  can  travel  with  my  two  pupils.”  Then 
there  is  something  improper  which  I  will  not  write.  The 
dream  is  now  finished. 

Remarks. — The  undressing  together  now  takes  place  in 
the  narrow  space  of  the  dressing-room  at  the  baths.  The 
want  of  dress  on  the  ship  gives  occasion  to  a  further  variant. 
(The  old  shirt  torn  in  three.)  In  consequence  of  great  un¬ 
certainty  the  getting  up  on  the  teacher  is  not  mentioned. 
Instead,  the  two  girls  get  up  on  two  fat  men.  As  “fat” 
becomes  so  prominent  it  should  be  noted  that  the  teacher  is 
more  than  a  little  plump.  The  setting  is  thoroughly  typical ; 
each  one  has  a  teacher.  The  duplication  or  multiplication 
of  the  persons  is  an  expression  of  their  significance,  i.e.  of  the 
stored-up  libido.1  (Compare  the  duplication  of  the  attribute 
in  dementia  praecox  in  my  “Psychology  of  Dementia  Praecox.”) 
In  cults  and  mythologies  the  significance  of  this  duplication 
is  very  striking.  (Cp.  the  Trinity  and  the  two  mystical 
formulas  of  confession :  “  Isis  una  quae  es  omnia.  Hermes 
omnia  solus  et  ter  unus.”)  Proverbially  we  say  he  eats, 
drinks,  or  sleeps  “for  two.”  The  multiplication  of  the 
personality  expresses  also  an  analogy  or  comparison — my 
friend  has  the  same  “  aetiological  value  ”  (Freud)  as  myself. 
In  dementia  praecox,  or  schizophrenia,  to  use  Bleuler’s 
wider  and  better  term,  the  multiplication  of  the  person¬ 
ality  is  mainly  the  expression  of  the  stored-up  libido, 
for  it  is  invariably  the  person  to  whom  the  patient  has 
transference  who  is  subjected  to  this  multiplication.  (“  There 
are  two  professors  N.”  “Oh,  you  are  also  Dr.  J. ;  this 
morning  another  came  to  see  me  who  called  himself  Dr.  J.”) 
It  seems  that,  corresponding  to  the  general  tendency  in 
schizophrenia,  this  splitting  is  an  analytic  degradation  whose 

1  This  also  holds  good  for  any  objects  that  are  repeated. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RUMOUR 


18B 


motive  is  to  prevent  the  arousing  of  too  violent  impressions. 
A  final  significance  of  the  multiplication  of  personality  which, 
however,  does  not  come  exactly  under  this  concept  is  the 
raising  of  some  attribute  of  the  person  to  a  living  figure. 
A  simple  instance  is  Dionysos  and  his  companion  Phales, 
wherein  Phales  is  the  equivalent  of  Phallos,  the  personifica¬ 
tion  of  the  penis  of  Dionysos.  The  so-called  attendants  of 
Dionysos  (Satyri,  Sileni,  Msenades,  Mimallones,  etc.)  consist 
of  the  personification  of  the  attributes  of  Dionysos. 

The  scene  in  Andermatt  is  portrayed  with  a  nice  wit,  or 
more  properly  speaking,  dreamt  further  :  “  The  teacher  steals 
chestnuts,”  that  is  equivalent  to  saying  he  does  what  is  pro¬ 
hibited.  By  chestnuts  is  meant  roasted  chestnuts,  which  on 
account  of  the  incision  are  known  as  a  female  sexual  symbol. 
Thus  the  remark  of  the  teacher,  that  he  was  especially  glad 
to  travel  with  his  pupils,  following  directly  upon  the  theft  of 
the  chestnuts,  becomes  intelligible.  This  theft  of  the  chest¬ 
nuts  is  certainly  a  personal  interpolation,  for  it  does  not  occur 
in  any  of  the  other  accounts.  It  shows  how  intensive  was  the 
inner  participation  of  the  school  companions  of  Marie  X.  in 
the  dream ;  resting  upon  similar  aetiological  requirements. 

This  is  the  last  of  the  aural  witnesses.  The  story  of  the 
veil,  the  pain  in  the  feet,  are  items  which  we  may  perhaps 
suspect  to  have  been  suggested  in  the  original  narrative. 
Other  interpolations  are,  however,  absolutely  personal,  and 
are  due  to  independent  inner  participation  in  the  meaning  of 
the  dream. 


Hearsay  Evidence. 

(I.)  The  whole  school  had  to  go  bathing  with  the  teacher. 
M.  X.  had  no  place  in  the  bath  in  which  to  undress.  Then 
the  teacher  said  :  “  You  can  come  into  my  room  and  undress 
with  me.”  She  must  have  felt  very  uncomfortable.  When 
both  were  undressed  they  went  into  the  lake.  The  teacher 
took  a  long  rope  and  wound  it  round  M.  Then  they  both 
swam  far  out.  But  M.  got  tired,  and  then  the  teacher  took 


184 


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her  upon  his  back.  Then  M.  saw  Lina  P. ;  she  called  out  to 
her,  Come  along  with  me,  and  Lina  came.  Then  they 
all  swam  out  still  farther.  They  met  a  ship.  Then  the 
teacher  asked,  “  May  we  get  in  ?  these  girls  are  tired.”  The 
boat  stopped,  and  they  could  all  get  up.  I  do  not  know 
exactly  how  they  came  ashore  again  at  K.  Then  the  teacher 
got  an  old  night-shirt.  He  put  it  on.  Then  he  met  an  old 
friend  who  was  celebrating  his  wedding.  The  teacher,  M. 
and  L.  were  invited.  The  wedding  was  celebrated  at  the 
Crown  in  K.  They  wanted  to  play  the  polonaise.  The 
teacher  said  he  would  not  accompany  them.  Then  the  others 
said  he  might  as  well.  He  did  it  with  M.  The  teacher  said : 
“  I  shall  not  go  home  again  to  my  wife  and  children.  I  love 
you  best,  M.”  She  was  greatly  pleased.  After  the  wedding 
there  was  the  honeymoon  journey.  The  teacher,  M.  and  L. 
had  to  accompany  the  others  also.  The  journey  was  to 
Milan.  Afterwards  they  went  to  Andermatt,  where  they 
could  find  no  place  to  sleep.  They  went  to  a  barn,  where 
they  could  stop  the  night  all  together.  I  must  not  say  any 
more  because  it  becomes  highly  improper.” 

Remarks. — The  undressing  in  the  swimming-bath  is 
properly  detailed.  The  union  in  the  water  receives  a  further 
simplification  for  which  the  story  of  the  rope  led  the  way  ; 
the  teacher  fastens  himself  to  Marie.  Lina  P.  is  not 
mentioned  at  all ;  she  only  comes  later  when  Marie  is  already 
sitting  upon  the  teacher.  The  dress  is  here  a  jacket.  The 
wedding  ceremony  contains  a  very  direct  meaning.  “  The 
teacher  will  not  go  home  any  more  to  wife  and  child.”  Marie 
is  the  darling.  In  the  barn  they  all  found  a  place  together, 
and  then  it  becomes  highly  improper. 

(II.)  It  was  said  that  she  had  gone  with  the  school  to  the 
swimming-baths  to  bathe.  But  as  the  baths  were  over-full 
the  teacher  had  called  her  to  come  to  him.  We  swam  out  to 
the  lake,  and  L.  P.  followed  us.  Then  the  teacher  took  a 
string  and  bound  us  to  one  another.  I  do  not  know  now 
exactly  how  they  again  got  separated.  But  after  a  long  time 
they  suddenly  arrived  at  Z.  There  a  scene  is  said  to  have 
taken  place  which  I  would  rather  not  tell,  for  if  it  were  true 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RUMOUR 


185 


it  would  be  too  disgraceful;  also  now  I  don’t  know  exactly 
bow  it  is  said  to  have  been,  for  I  was  very  tired,  only  I  also 
heard  that  M.  X.  is  said  to  have  told  how  she  was  always  to 
remain  with  our  teacher,  and  he  again  and  again  caressed 
her  as  his  favourite  pupil.  If  I  knew  exactly  I  would  also 
say  the  other  thing,  but  my  sister  only  said  something  about 
a  little  child  which  was  born  there,  and  of  which  the  teacher 
was  said  to  have  been  the  godfather. 

Remarks. — Note  that  in  this  story  the  improper  scene  is 
inserted  in  the  place  of  the  wedding  ceremony,  where  it  is  as 
apposite  as  at  the  end,  for  the  attentive  reader  will  certainly 
have  already  observed  that  the  improper  scene  could  have 
taken  place  in  the  swimming-bath  dressing-room.  The  pro¬ 
cedure  has  been  adopted  which  is  so  frequent  in  dreams 
as  a  whole ;  the  final  thoughts  of  a  long  series  of  dream 
images  contain  exactly  what  the  first  image  of  the  series  was 
trying  to  represent.  The  censor  pushes  the  complex  away 
as  long  as  possible  through  ever-renewed  disguises,  displace¬ 
ments,  innocent  renderings,  etc.  It  does  not  take  place  in 
the  bathing-room,  in  the  water  the  “  getting  up  ”  does  not 
occur,  on  landing  it  is  not  on  the  teacher’s  back  that  the  girls 
are  sitting,  it  is  another  pair  who  are  married  in  the  barn, 
another  girl  has  the  child,  and  the  teacher  is  only — godfather. 
All  these  images  and  situations  are,  however,  directed  to 
pick  out  the  complex,  the  desire  for  coitus.  Nevertheless  the 
action  still  occurs  at  the  back  of  all  these  metamorphoses, 
and  the  result  is  the  birth  placed  at  the  end  of  the  scene. 

(III.)  Marie  said :  the  teacher  had  a  wedding  with  his 
wife,  and  they  went  to  the  “Crown”  and  danced  with  one 
another.  M.  said  a  lot  of  wild  things  which  I  cannot  repeat 
or  write  about,  for  it  is  too  embarrassing. 

Remarks. — Here  everything  is  too  improper  to  be  told. 
Note  that  the  marriage  takes  place  with  the  wife. 

(IY.)  ....  that  the  teacher  and  M.  once  went  bathing, 
and  he  asked  M.  whether  she  wanted  to  come  along  too.  She 
said  “yes.”  When  they  had  gone  out  together  they  met  L.  P., 
and  the  teacher  asked  whether  she  wished  to  come  along. 
And  they  went  out  farther.  Then  I  also  heard  that  she  said 


186 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


that  the  teacher  said  L.  P.  and  she  were  the  favourite  pupils. 
She  also  told  us  that  the  teacher  was  in  his  swimming 
drawers.  Then  they  went  to  a  wedding,  and  the  bride  got  a 
little  child. 

Remarks. — The  personal  relationship  to  the  teacher  is 
strongly  emphasised  (the  “  favourite  pupils  ”),  likewise  the 
want  of  clothing  (“  swimming  drawers  ”). 

(Y.)  M.  and  L.  P.  went  bathing  with  the  teacher.  When 
M.  and  L.  P.  and  the  teacher  had  swum  a  little  way,  M.  said : 
“  I  cannot  go  any  further,  teacher,  my  foot  hurts  me.”  Then 
the  teacher  said  she  should  sit  on  his  back,  which  M.  did. 
Then  a  small  steamer  came  along,  and  the  teacher  got  into 
the  ship.  The  teacher  had  also  two  ropes,  and  he  fastened 
both  children  to  the  ship.  Then  they  went  together  to  Z.  and 
got  out  there.  Then  the  teacher  bought  himself  a  dressing 
jacket  and  put  it  on,  and  the  children  had  put  a  cloth  over 
themselves.  The  teacher  had  a  bride,  and  they  were  in  a 
barn.  Both  children  were  with  the  teacher  and  the  bride  in 
the  barn,  and  danced.  I  must  not  write  the  other  thing,  for 
it  is  too  awful. 

Remarks. — Here  Marie  sits  upon  the  teacher’s  back.  The 
teacher  fastens  the  two  children  by  ropes  to  the  ship,  from 
which  it  can  be  seen  how  easily  ship  is  put  for  teacher.  The 
jacket  again  emerges  as  the  piece  of  clothing.  It  was  the 
teacher’s  own  wedding,  and  what  is  improper  comes  after  the 
dance. 

(YI.)  The  teacher  is  said  to  have  gone  bathing  with  the 
whole  school.  M.  could  not  find  any  room,  and  she  cried. 
The  teacher  is  said  to  have  told  M.  she  could  come  into  his 
dressing-room. 

“  I  must  leave  out  something  here  and  there,”  said  my 
sister,  “  for  it  is  a  long  story.”  But  she  told  me  something 
more  which  I  must  tell  in  order  to  speak  the  truth.  When 
they  were  in  the  bath  the  teacher  asked  M.  if  she  wished  to 
swim  out  into  the  lake  with  him.  To  which  she  replied,  “  If 
I  go  along,  you  come  also.”  Then  we  swam  until  about  half¬ 
way.  Then  M.  got  tired,  and  then  the  teacher  pulled  her 
by  a  cord.  At  K.  they  went  on  land,  and  from  there  to  Z. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RUMOUR 


187 


(The  teacher  was  all  the  time  dressed  as  in  the  bath.)  There 
we  met  a  friend,  whose  wedding  it  was.  We  were  invited  by 
this  friend.  After  the  ceremony  there  was  a  honeymoon 
journey,  and  we  came  to  Milan.  We  had  to  pass  one  night 
in  a  barn  where  something  occurred  which  I  cannot  say. 
The  teacher  said  we  were  his  favourite  pupils,  and  he  also 
kissed  M. 

Remarks.— The  excuse  “  I  must  leave  out  something  here 
and  there”  replaces  the  undressing.  The  teacher’s  want  of 
clothing  is  emphasised.  The  journey  to  Milan  is  a  typical 
honeymoon.  This  passage  also  seems  to  be  an  independent 
fancy,  due  to  some  personal  participation.  Marie  clearly 
figures  as  the  loved  one. 

(VII.)  The  whole  school  and  the  teacher  went  bathing. 
They  all  went  into  one  room.  The  teacher  also.  M.  alone 
had  no  place,  and  the  teacher  said  to  her,  “I  have  still 
room,”  she  went.  Then  the  teacher  said,  “  Lie  on  my  back, 
I  will  swim  out  into  the  lake  with  you.”  I  must  not  write 
any  more,  for  it  is  improper;  I  can  hardly  say  it  at  all. 
Beyond  the  improper  part  which  followed  I  do  not  know  any 
more  of  the  dream. 

Remarks. — The  narrator  approaches  the  basis.  Marie  is 
to  lie  upon  the  teacher’s  back  in  the  bathing  compartment. 
Beyond  the  improper  part  she  cannot  give  any  more  of  the 
dream. 

(VIII.)  The  whole  school  went  bathing.  M.  had  no  room 
and  was  invited  by  the  teacher  into  his  compartment.  The 
teacher  swam  out  with  her  and  told  her  that  she  was  his 
darling  or  something  like  that.  When  they  got  ashore  at  Z. 
a  friend  was  just  having  a  wedding  and  he  invited  them  both 
in  their  swimming  costumes.  The  teacher  found  an  old 
dressing  jacket  and  put  it  over  the  swimming  drawers.  He 
(the  teacher)  also  kissed  M.  and  said  he  would  not  return 
home  to  his  wife  any  more.  They  were  also  both  invited 
on  the  honeymoon  journey.  On  the  journey  they  passed 
Andermatt,  where  they  could  not  find  any  place  to  sleep, 
and  so  had  to  sleep  in  the  hay.  There  was  a  woman ;  the 
dreadful  part  now  comes,  it  is  not  at  all  right  to  make 


188 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


something  serious  into  mockery  and  laughter.  This  woman 
got  a  small  child.  I  will  not  say  any  more  now,  for  it 
becomes  too  dreadful. 

Remarks. — The  narrator  is  thoroughgoing.  (He  told  her 
simply  she  was  his  darling.  He  kissed  her  and  said  he 
would  not  go  home  to  his  wife.)  The  vexation  about  the 
silly  tattling  which  breaks  through  at  the  end  suggests  some 
peculiarity  in  the  narrator.  From  subsequent  investigation 
it  was  found  that  this  girl  was  the  only  one  of  the  witnesses 
who  had  been  early  and  intentionally  given  an  explanation 
about  sex  by  her  mother. 


Epickisis. 

So  far  as  the  interpretation  of  the  dream  is  concerned, 
there  is  nothing  for  me  to  add ;  the  children  have  taken  care 
of  all  the  essentials,  leaving  practically  nothing  over  for 
psychoanalytic  interpretation.  Rumour  has  analysed  and 
interpreted  the  dream.  So  far  as  I  know  rumour  has  not 
hitherto  been  investigated  in  this  new  capacity.  This 
case  certainly  makes  it  appear  worth  while  to  fathom  the 
psychology  of  rumour.  In  the  presentation  of  the  material  I 
have  purposely  restricted  myself  to  the  psychoanalytic  point 
of  view,  although  I  do  not  deny  that  my  material  offers 
numerous  openings  for  the  invaluable  researches  of  the 
followers  of  Stern,  Claparede,  and  others. 

The  material  enables  us  to  understand  the  structure  of 
the  rumour,  but  psychoanalysis  cannot  rest  satisfied  with 
that.  The  why  and  wherefore  of  the  whole  manifestation 
demands  further  knowledge.  As  we  have  seen,  the  teacher, 
astonished  by  this  rumour,  was  left  puzzled  by  the  problem, 
wondering  as  to  its  cause  and  effect.  How  can  a  dream  which 
is  notoriously  incorrect  and  meaningless  (for  teachers  are,  as 
is  well  known,  grounded  in  psychology)  produce  such  effects, 
such  malicious  gossip  ?  Faced  by  this,  the  teacher  seems  to 
have  instinctively  hit  upon  the  correct  answer.  The  effect  of 
the  dream  can  only  be  explained  by  its  being  “le  vrai  mot  de 
la  situation,”  i.e.  that  the  dream  formed  the  fit  expression 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RUMOUR 


189 


for  something  that  was  already  in  the  air.  It  was  the  spark 
which  fell  into  the  powder  magazine.  The  material  contains 
all  the  proofs  essential  for  this  view.  I  have  repeatedly 
drawn  attention  to  their  own  unrecognised  participation  in 
the  dream  by  Marie’s  school-companions,  and  the  special 
points  of  interest  where  any  of  them  have  added  their  own 
phantasies  or  dreams.  The  class  consists  of  girls  between 
twelve  and  thirteen  years  of  age,  who  therefore  are  in  the 
midst  of  the  prodromata  of  puberty.  The  dreamer  Marie  X. 
is  herself  physically  almost  completely  developed  sexually, 
and  in  this  respect  ahead  of  her  class;  she  is  therefore  a 
leader  who  has  given  the  watch-word  for  the  Unconscious, 
and  thus  brought  to  expression  the  sexual  complexes  of  her 
companions  which  were  lying  there  ready  prepared. 

As  can  be  easily  understood  the  occasion  was  most  painful 
to  the  teacher.  The  supposition  that  therein  lay  some  secret 
motive  of  the  schoolgirls  is  justified  by  the  psychoanalytic 
axiom — judge  actions  by  their  results  rather  than  by  their 
conscious  motives.1  Consequently  it  would  be  probable  that 
Marie  X.  had  been  especially  troublesome  to  her  teacher. 
Marie  at  first  liked  this  teacher  most  of  all.  In  the  course  of 
the  latter  half-year  her  position  had,  however,  changed.  She 
had  become  dreamy  and  inattentive,  and  towards  the  dusk  of 
evening  was  afraid  to  go  into  the  streets  for  fear  of  bad  men. 
She  talked  several  times  to  her  companions  about  sexual  things 
in  a  somewhat  obscene  way ;  her  mother  asked  me  anxiously 
how  she  should  explain  the  approaching  menstruation  to 
her  daughter.  On  account  of  this  alteration  in  conduct  Marie 
had  forfeited  the  good  opinion  of  her  teacher,  as  was  clearly 
evidenced  for  the  first  time  by  a  school  report,  which  she  and 
some  of  her  friends  had  received  a  few  days  before  the  out¬ 
break  of  the  rumour.  The  disappointment  was  so  great  that 
the  girls  had  imagined  all  kinds  of  fancied  acts  of  revenge 
against  the  teacher ;  for  instance,  they  might  push  him  on  to 
the  lines  so  that  the  train  would  run  over  him,  etc.  Marie 
was  especially  to  the  fore  in  these  murderous  phantasies. 
On  the  night  of  this  great  outburst  of  anger,  when  her  former 


1  See  “  The  Association  Method,”  Lecture  III. 


190 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


liking  for  her  teacher  seemed  quite  forgotten,  that  repressed 
part  of  herself  announced  itself  in  the  dream,  and  fulfilled  its 
desire  for  sexual  union  with  the  teacher — as  a  compensation 
for  the  hate  which  had  filled  the  day. 

On  waking,  the  dream  became  a  subtle  instrument  of  her 
hatred,  because  the  wish-idea  was  also  that  of  her  school 
companions,  as  it  always  is  in  rumours  of  this  kind.  Revenge 
certainly  had  its  triumph,  but  the  recoil  upon  Marie  herself 
was  still  more  severe.  Such  is  the  rule  when  our  impulses 
are  given  over  to  the  Unconscious.  Marie  X.  was  expelled 
from  school,  but  upon  my  report  she  was  allowed  to  return 
to  it. 

I  am  well  aware  that  this  little  communication  is  in¬ 
adequate  and  unsatisfactory  from  the  point  of  view  of  exact 
science.  Had  the  original  story  been  accurately  verified  we 
should  have  clearly  demonstrated  what  we  have  now  been 
only  able  to  suggest.  This  case  therefore  only  posits  a 
question,  and  it  remains  for  happier  observers  to  collect 
convincing  experiences  in  this  field. 


CHAPTER  V 

ON  THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  NUMBER-DREAMS.1 

The  symbolism  of  numbers  which  greatly  engaged  the 
imaginative  philosophy  of  earlier  centuries  has  again 
acquired  a  fresh  interest  from  the  analytic  investigations 
of  Freud  and  his  school.  But  in  the  material  of  number- 
dreams  we  no  longer  discover  conscious  puzzles  of  symbolic 
concatenations  of  numbers  but  the  unconscious  roots  of 
the  symbolism  of  numbers.  There  is  scarcely  anything 
quite  fundamentally  new  to  offer  in  this  spheie  since  the 
presentations  of  Freud,  Adler  and  Stekel.  It  must  heie 
suffice  to  corroborate  their  experiences  by  recording  paiallel 
cases.  I  have  had  under  observation  a  few  cases  of  this 
kind  which  are  worth  reporting  for  their  general  interest. 

The  first  three  instances  are  from  a  middle-aged  married 
man  whose  conflict  of  the  moment  was  an  extra-conjugal 
love  affair.  The  piece  of  the  dream  from  which  I  take  the 
symbolised  number  is :  in  front  of  the  manager  his  general 
subscription.  The  manager  comments  on  the  high  number  of  the 
subscription .  It  reads  2477. 

The  analysis  of  the  dream  brings  out  a  rathei  ungentle- 
manly  reckoning  up  of  the  expense  of  the  affair  which  is  foieign 
to  the  generous  nature  of  the  dreamer,  and  which  the  un¬ 
conscious  makes  use  of  as  a  resistance  to  this  affair.  The 
preliminary  interpretation  is  therefore,  that  the  number  has 
some  financial  importance  and  origin.  A  rough  estimate  of  the 
expenses  so  far  leads  to  a  number  which  in  fact  approaches 
2477  francs;  a  more  exact  reckoning,  however,  gives  2387 
francs,  which  could  be  only  arbitrarily  translated  into  2477. 
I  then  left  the  numbers  to  the  free  association  of  the  patient ; 


i  “  Zentralblatt  fur  Psychoanalyse,”  1911,  p.  567. 


192 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


it  occurs  to  him  that  the  figure  in  the  dream  should  be 
divided  as  24-77.  Perhaps  it  is  a  telephone  number ;  this 
supposition  proves  incorrect.  The  next  association  is  that 
it  is  the  total  of  some  numbers.  A  reminiscence  then  occurs 
to  him  that  he  once  told  me  that  he  had  celebrated  the  100th 
birthday  of  his  mother  and  himself  when  his  mother  was 
65  and  he  was  35  years  old.  (Their  birthdays  are  on  the 
same  day.) 

In  this  way  the  patient  arrived  at  the  following  series  of 
associations : — 


He  is  born  on  . 

26  II. 

His  mistress . 

28  VIII. 

His  wife . 

1  III. 

His  mother  (his  father  is  long  dead) 

26  II. 

His  two  children  .... 

29  IV. 

and 

18  VII. 

The  patient  is  born 

II.  75. 

His  mistress . 

VIII.  85. 

Pie  is  now  36  years  old,  his  mistress  25. 

It  this  series  of  associations  is  written  in  the  usual  figures, 
the  following  addition  is  arrived  at  : — 


26.  II. 

262 

28.  VIII. 

288 

1.  III. 

13 

26.  II. 

= 

262 

29.  IV. 

294 

13.  VII. 

137 

II.  75. 

— 

275 

VIII.  85 

= 

885 

25 

25 

36 

= 

36 

2477 

This  series,  which  includes  all  the  members  of  his  family, 
gives  the  number  2477. 

This  construction  led  to  a  deeper  layer  of  the  dream’s 
meaning.  The  patient  is  most  closely  united  to  his  family, 
but  on  the  other  hand  very  much  in  love.  This  situation 


ON  THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  NUMBER-DREAMS  19?> 


provokes  a  severe  conflict.  The  detailed  description  of  the 
manager’s  appearance  (which  I  leave  out  for  the  sake  of 
brevity)  pointed  to  the  analyst,  from  whom  the  patient 
rightly  fears  and  desires  firm  control  and  criticism  of  his 
condition  of  dependence  and  bondage. 

The  dream  which  followed  soon  afterwards,  reported  in 
brief,  runs :  The  analyst  asks  the  patient  what  he  actually  does 
at  his  mistress'1  ?  to  which  the  patient  replied  he  plays  there , 
and  that  indeed  on  a  very  high  number ,  on  152.  The  analyst 
remarks  :  “  You  are  sadly  cheated.” 

The  analysis  displayed  again  a  repressed  tendency  to 
reckon  up  the  expense  of  the  affair.  The  amount  spent 
monthly  was  close  on  152  francs,  it  was  from  148-158  francs. 
The  remark  that  he  was  being  cheated  alludes  to  the  point  at 
issue  in  the  difficulties  of  the  patient  with  his  mistress.  She 
maintains  that  he  had  deflowered  her  ;  he,  on  the  contrary,  is 
firmly  convinced  that  she  was  not  a  virgin,  and  that  she  had 
already  been  seduced  by  some  one  else  at  the  time  when  he 
was  seeking  her  favours  and  she  was  refusing  him.  The  ex¬ 
pression  “  number  ”  leads  to  the  associations  :  number  of  the 
gloves,  calibre-number.  From  there  the  next  step  was  to 
the  fact  that  he  recognized,  at  the  first  coitus,  a  noticeable 
width  of  the  opening  instead  of  the  expected  resistance  of 
the  hymen.  To  him,  this  is  proof  of  the  deception.  The 
unconscious  naturally  makes  use  of  this  opportunity  as  an 
effective  means  of  opposition  to  the  relationship.  152  proves 
at  first  refractory  to  further  analysis.  The  number  on  a 
subsequent  occasion  aroused  the  really  not  remote  associa¬ 
tion,  “  house-number.”  Then  came  this  series  of  associa¬ 
tions.  When  the  patient  first  knew  her  the  lady  lived  at 
X  Street  No.  17,  then  Y  Street  No.  129,  then  Z  Street  No.  48. 

Here  the  patient  thought  that  he  had  clearly  gone  far 
beyond  152,  the  total  being  194.  It  then  occurred  to  him 
that  the  lady  had  removed  from  No.  48  Z  Street  at 
his  instigation  for  certain  reasons ;  it  must  therefore  run 
194  —  48  =  146.  She  now  lives  in  A  Street  No.  6,  there¬ 
fore  146  +  6  =  152. 

The  following  dream  was  obtained  during  a  later  part 

13 


194 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


of  the  analysis.  The  patient  dreamt  that  he  had  received 
an  account  from  the  analyst  in  which  he  teas  charged  interest 
for  delay  in  payment  from  the  period  September  3 rd  to  29th. 
The  interest  on  the  total  of  815  francs  was  1  franc. 

Under  this  reproach  of  meanness  and  avariciousness 
levelled  at  the  analyst,  the  patient  covered,  as  analysis 
proved,  a  violent  unconscious  envy.  Diverse  things  in  the 
life  of  the  analyst  can  arouse  the  patient’s  envy,  one  fact 
here  in  particular  had  recently  made  a  marked  impression. 
His  physician  had  received  an  addition  to  the  family.  The 
disturbed  relations  between  the  patient  and  his  wife  unfor¬ 
tunately  does  not  permit  such  an  expectation  in  his  case. 
Hence  his  ground  for  envy  and  invidious  comparisons. 

As  before,  the  analysis  of  315  produces  a  separation 
into  3 — 1 — 5.  To  three  he  associates — his  doctor  has  three 
children,  just  lately  there  is  one  in  addition.  He  himself 
would  have  five  children  were  all  living ;  as  it  is  he  has 
3  _  1  =  2  living ;  for  three  of  the  children  were  stillborn. 
The  symbolism  of  the  numbers  is  not  exhausted  by  these 
associations. 

The  patient  remarks  that  the  period  from  3rd  to  29th 
September  contains  twenty-six  days.  His  next  thought  is 
to  add  this  and  the  other  figures  of  the  dream : 

26 

315 

_1 

342 

"With  342  he  carries  out  the  same  operation  as  on  315, 
splitting  it  into  3 — 4 — 2.  Whereas  before  it  came  out  that 
his  doctor  had  three  children,  and  then  had  another,  and 
the  patient  had  five,  now  it  runs :  the  doctor  had  three 
children,  and  now  has  four,  patient  has  only  two.  He  re¬ 
marks  on  this  that  the  second  figure  sounds  like  a  rectifica¬ 
tion  in  contrast  with  the  wish  fulfilment  of  the  first. 

The  patient,  who  had  discovered  this  explanation  for 
himself  without  my  help,  declared  himself  satisfied.  His 
physician,  however,  was  not ;  to  him  it  seemed  that  the 


ON  THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  NUMBER-DREAMS  195 


above  disclosures  did  not  exhaust  the  rich  possibilities  that 
determined  the  unconscious  images.  The  patient  had,  for 
instance,  added  to  the  figure  five  that  of  the  stillborn  children  ; 
one  was  born  in  the  9th  month  and  two  in  the  7th.  He 
also  emphasised  the  fact  that  his  wife  had  had  two  mis¬ 
carriages,  one  in  the  5th  week  and  the  other  in  the  7th. 
Adding  these  figures  together  we  get  the  determination  of 
the  number  26. 


Child  of  7  months 

7 

))  }>  1  5> 

9 

))  5)  °  }  f 

23  „ 

2  miscarriages  (5  +  7  weeks)  3  , , 

26 

It  seems  as  if  the  number  twenty-six  were  determined  by 
the  number  of  the  lost  times  of  pregnancy.  This  time 
(twenty-six  days)  denotes,  in  the  dream,  a  delay  for  which 
the  patient  was  charged  one  franc  interest.  He  has,  in  fact, 
suffered  a  delay  through  the  lost  pregnancies,  for  his  doctor 
has,  during  the  time  the  patient  has  known  him,  surpassed 
him  with  one  child.  One  franc  must  be  one  child.  We  have 
already  seen  the  tendency  of  the  patient  to  add  together  all 
his  children,  even  the  dead  ones,  in  order  to  outdo  his  rival. 
The  thought  that  his  physician  had  outdone  him  by  one  child 
could  easily  react  immediately  upon  the  determination  of  1. 
We  will  therefore  follow  up  this  tendency  of  the  patient,  and 
carry  on  his  play  with  figures,  by  adding  to  the  figure  26, 
the  two  complete  pregnancies  of  nine  months  each. 

26  +  9  +  9  =  44 

If  we  follow  the  tendency  to  split  up  the  numbers  we  get 
2  +  6  and  4  +  4,  two  groups  of  figures  which  have  only  this 
in  common,  that  each  group  gives  8  by  addition.  These 
numbers  are,  as  we  must  notice,  composed  entirely  of  the 
months  of  pregnancy  given  by  the  patient.  Compare  with 
them  those  groups  of  figures  which  contain  the  information 


196 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


as  to  the  doctor’s  fecundity,  viz.  315  and  342;  it  is  to  be 
noted  that  the  resemblance  lies  in  their  sum-total  giving 
9  :  9  _  8  ==  1.  It  looks  as  if  here  likewise  the  notion  about 
the  differentiation  of  1  were  carried  out.  As  the  patient 
remarked,  315  seems  thus  a  wish  fulfilment,  342  on  the  other 
hand  a  rectification.  An  ingenious  fancy  playing  round  will 
discover  the  following  difference  between  the  two  numbers : 

3  x  1  x  5  =  15.  3  X  4  X  2  =  24.  24-  15  =9 

Here  again  we  come  upon  the  important  figure  9,  which 
neatly  combines  the  reckoning  of  the  pregnancies  and  births. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  where  the  borderline  of  play  begins ; 
necessarily  so,  for  the  unconscious  product  is  the  creation 
of  a  sportive  fancy,  of  that  psychic  impulse  out  of  which 
play  itself  arises.  It  is  repugnant  to  the  scientific  mind  to 
have  serious  dealings  with  this  element  of  play,  which  on  all 
sides  loses  itself  in  the  vague.  But  it  must  be  never  forgotten 
that  the  human  mind  has  for  thousands  of  years  amused 
itself  with  just  this  kind  of  game ;  it  were  therefore  nothing 
wonderful  if  this  historic  past  again  compelled  admission 
in  dream  to  similar  tendencies.  The  patient  pursues  in  his 
waking  life  similar  phantastic  tendencies  about  figures,  as 
is  seen  in  the  fact  already  mentioned  of  the  celebration  of 
the  100th  birthday.  Their  presence  in  the  dream  therefore 
need  not  surprise  us.  In  a  single  example  of  unconscious 
determination  exact  proofs  are  often  lacking,  but  the  sum 
of  our  experiences  entitles  us  to  rely  upon  the  accuracy 
of  the  individual  discoveries.  In  the  investigation  of  free 
creative  phantasy  we  are  in  the  region,  almost  more  than 
anywhere  else,  of  broad  empiricism ;  a  high  measure  of 
discretion  as  to  the  accuracy  of  individual  results  is  conse¬ 
quently  required,  but  this  in  nowise  obliges  us  to  pass  over 
in  silence  what  is  active  and  living,  for  fear  of  being  execrated 
as  unscientific.  There  must  be  no  parleying  with  the  super¬ 
stition-phobia  of  the  modern  mind ;  for  this  itself  is  a  means 
by  which  the  secrets  of  the  unconscious  are  kept  veiled. 

It  is  of  special  interest  to  see  how  the  problems  of  the 
patient  are  mirrored  in  the  unconscious  of  his  wife.  His 


ON  THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  NUMBER-DEE  AMS  197 


wife  had  the  following  dream :  She  dreamt,  and  this  is  the 
whole  dream:  “ Luke  137.”  The  analysis  of  the  number 
gives  the  following.  To  1  she  associates :  The  doctor  has 
another  child.  He  had  three.  If  all  her  children  were  living 
she  would  have  7 ;  now  she  has  only  3  —  1  =  2.  But  she 
desires  1  +  3  +  7  =  11  (a  twin  number,  1  and  1),  which  ex¬ 
presses  her  wish  that  her  two  children  had  been  pairs  of 
twins,  for  then  she  would  have  reached  the  same  number  of 
children  as  the  doctor.  Her  mother  once  had  twins.  The 
hope  of  getting  a  child  by  her  husband  is  very  precarious ; 
this  had  for  a  long  time  turned  her  ideas  in  the  unconscious 
towards  a  second  marriage.  Other  phantasies  pictured  her 
as  “done  with,”  i.e.  having  reached  the  climacteric  at  44. 
She  is  now  33  years  old,  therefore  in  11  years  she  will 
have  reached  her  44th  year.  This  is  an  important  period 
as  her  father  died  in  his  44th  year.  Her  phantasy  of 
the  44th  year  contains  the  idea  of  the  death  of  her  father. 
The  emphasis  of  the  death  of  her  father  corresponds  to  the 
repressed  phantasy  of  the  death  of  her  husband,  who  is  the 
obstacle  to  a  second  marriage.  At  this  place  the  material 
belonging  to  the  dream  “  Lake  137  ”  comes  in  to  solve  the 
conflict.  The  dreamer  is,  one  soon  discovers,  in  no  wise 
well  up  in  her  Bible,  she  has  not  read  her  Bible  for  an  in¬ 
credible  time,  she  is  not  at  all  religious.  It  were  therefore 
quite  purposeless  to  have  recourse  to  associations  here. 
The  dreamer’s  ignorance  of  her  Bible  is  so  great  that  she 
did  not  even  know  that  the  citation  “  Luke  137”  could 
only  refer  to  the  Gospel  of  St.  Luke.  When  she  turned  up 
the  New  Testament  she  came  to  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles. 
As  chapter  i.  has  only  26  verses  and  not  37,  she  took  the 
7th  verse,  “It  is  not  for  you  to  know  the  times  or  the 
seasons,  which  the  Father  hath  put  in  his  own  power.” 

But  if  we  turn  to  Luke  i.  37,  we  find  the  Annunciation 
of  the  Virgin. 

Verse  35.  The  Holy  Ghost  shall  come  upon  thee,  and  the 
power  of  the  Highest  shall  overshadow  thee :  therefore  also 
that  holy  thing  which  shall  be  born  of  thee  shall  be  called 
the  Son  of  God. 


198 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


Verse  36.  And,  behold,  thy  cousin  Elisabeth,  she  hath 
also  conceived  a  son  in  her  old  age :  and  this  is  the  sixth 
'  month  with  her,  who  was  called  barren. 

Verse  37.  For  with  God  nothing  shall  be  impossible. 

The  necessary  continuation  of  the  analysis  of  “Luke 
137  ”  demanded  the  looking  up  of  Luke  xiii.  7,  where  it  says : 

Verse  6.  A  certain  man  had  a  fig  tree  planted  in  his 
vineyard ;  and  he  came  and  sought  fruit  thereon,  and  found 
none. 

Verse  7.  Then  said  he  unto  the  dresser  of  his  vineyard, 
Behold,  these  three  years  I  come  seeking  fruit  on  this  fig  tree, 
and  find  none  :  cut  it  down ;  why  cumbereth  it  the  ground  ? 

The  fig-tree,  which  from  antiquity  has  been  a  symbol  of 
the  male  genital,  is  to  be  cut  down  on  account  of  its  un¬ 
fruitfulness.  This  passage  is  in  complete  accord  with  in¬ 
numerable  sadistic  phantasies  of  the  dreamer,  concerned 
with  the  cutting  or  biting  off  of  the  penis.  The  relation  to 
her  husband’s  unfruitful  organ  is  obvious.  That  she  with¬ 
draws  her  libido  from  her  husband  is  clear  for  he  is  impotent 
as  regard  herself;  it  is  equally  clear  that  she  undergoes 
regression  to  the  father  (“which  the  father  hath  put  in  his 
own  power  ”)  and  identifies  herself  with  her  mother  who  had 
twins.1  By  thus  advancing  her  age  the  dreamer  places  her 
husband  in  regard  to  herself  in  the  position  of  a  son  or  boy, 
of  an  age  at  which  impotency  is  normal.  Furthermore,  the 
desire  to  overcome  her  husband  is  easily  understood  from, 
and  amply  evidenced  in,  her  earlier  analysis.  It  is  therefore 
only  a  confirmation  of  what  has  been  already  said,  if,  follow¬ 
ing  up  the  matter  of  “  Luke  137,”  we  find  in  Luke  vii. 
verse  12,  Now  when  he  came  nigh  to  the  gate  of  the  city, 
behold,  there  was  a  dead  man  carried  out,  the  only  son 
of  his  mother,  and  she  was  a  widow.  (13)  And  when  the 
Lord  saw  her,  he  had  compassion  on  her,  and  said  unto  her, 
Weep  not.  (14)  And  he  came  and  touched  the  bier:  and 
they  that  bare  him  stood  still.  And  he  said,  Young  man, 
I  say  unto  thee,  Arise. 

In  the  particular  psychological  situation  of  the  dreamer 

1  The  husband’s  principal  conflict  is  a  pronounced  mother-complex. 


ON  THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  NUMBER-DREAMS  199 


the  allusion  to  the  resurrection  presents  a  delightful  meaning 
as  the  cure  of  her  husband’s  impotency.  Then  the  whole 
problem  would  be  solved.  There  is  no  need  for  me  to  point 
out  in  so  many  words  the  numerous  wish-fulfilments  con¬ 
tained  in  this  material ;  they  are  obvious  to  the  reader. 

The  important  combination  of  the  symbol  “Luke  137” 
must  be  conceived  as  cryptomnesia,  since  the  dreamer  is  quite 
unversed  in  the  Bible.  Both  Flournoy1  and  myself2  have 
already  drawn  attention  to  the  important  effects  of  this 
phenomenon.  So  far  as  one  can  be  humanly  certain  the 
question  of  any  manipulation  of  the  material  with  intent  to 
deceive  does  not  come  into  consideration  in  this  case.  Those 
well  posted  in  psychoanalysis  will  be  able  to  allay  any  such 
suspicion  simply  from  the  disposition  and  setting  of  the 
material  as  a  whole. 

1  Flournoy,  “  Des  Indes  a  la  Planete  Mars.”  Idem:  “  Nouvelles  observa¬ 
tions  sur  un  cas  de  somnambulisme,”  Arch,  de  Pyschol.,  vol.  I. 

2  See  chapter  I,  p.  86. 


CHAPTER  VI 


A  CRITICISM  OF  BLEULER’S  “THEORY  OF 
SCHIZOPHRENIC  NEGATIVISM.”1 

Bleuler’s  work  contains  a  noteworthy  clinical  analysis  of 
“  Negativism.”  Besides  giving  a  very  precise  and  discerning 
summary  of  the  various  manifestations  of  negativism,  the 
author  presents  us  with  a  new  psychological  conception  well 
worthy  of  attention,  viz.  the  concept  of  ambivalency  and  of 
ambitendency ,  thus  formulating  the  psychological  axiom  that 
every  tendency  is  balanced  by  its  opposite  tendency  (to  this 
must  be  added  that  positive  action  is  produced  by  a  com¬ 
paratively  small  leaning  to  one  side  of  the  scale).  Similarly  all 
other  tendencies,  under  the  stress  of  emotions,  are  balanced 
by  their  opposites — thus  giving  an  ambivalent  character  to 
their  expression.  This  theory  rests  on  clinical  observation  of 
katatonic  negativism,  which  more  than  proves  the  existence 
of  contrasting  tendencies  and  values.  These  facts  are  well 
known  to  psychoanalysis,  where  they  are  summed  up  under 
the  concept  of  resistance.  But  this  must  not  be  taken  as 
meaning  that  every  positive  psychic  action  simply  calls  up  its 
opposite.  One  may  easily  gain  the  impression  from  Bleuler’s 
work  that  his  standpoint  is  that,  cum  grano  salis  the  concep¬ 
tion,  or  the  tendency  of  the  Schizophrenic  is  always  accom¬ 
panied  by  its  opposite.  For  instance,  Bleuler  says  : — 

1.  “  Disposing  causes  of  negativistic  phenomena  are:  the 
ambitendency  by  which  every  impulse  is  accompanied  by  its 
opposite.” 

2.  “  Ambivalency,  which  gives  two  opposed  emotional  ex¬ 
pressions  to  the  same  idea,  and  would  regard  that  idea  as 
positive  and  negative  at  the  same  time.” 

1  “  Sonderabdruck  aus  dem  Jalirbuch  fur  psychoanalytische  und  psycho- 
patkologische  Forschungen,”  vol.  III. 


SCHIZOPHRENIC  NEGATIVISM 


201 


3.  “  The  schizophrenic  splitting  of  the  psyche  which  pre¬ 
vents  any  final  summing  up  of  the  conflicting  and  corre¬ 
sponding  psychisms,  so  that  the  unsuitable  impulse  can  he 
realised  just  as  much  as  the  right  one,  and  the  negative 
thought  substituted  for  the  right  one.”  “  On  this  theory, 
negative  manifestations  may  directly  arise,  since  non-selected 
positive  and  negative  psychisms  may  stand  for  one  another,” 
and  so  on. 

If  we  investigate  psychoanalytically  a  case  of  obvious 
ambivalency,  i.e .  of  a  more  or  less  unexpected  negative 
instead  of  a  positive  reaction,  we  find  that  there  is  a  strict 
sequence  of  psychological  causes  conditioning  negative  re¬ 
action.  The  tendency  of  this  sequence  is  to  disturb  the 
intention  of  the  contrasting  or  opposite  series,  that  is  to  say, 
it  is  resistance  set  up  by  a  complex .  This  fact,  which  has  not 
yet  been  refuted  by  any  other  observations,  seems  to  me  to 
contradict  the  above-mentioned  formulae.  (For  confirmation, 
see  my  “  Pyschology  of  Dementia  Praecox,”  p.  103.)  Psycho¬ 
analysis  has  proved  conclusively  that  a  resistance  always  has 
an  intention  and  a  meaning ;  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a 
capricious  playing  with  contrasts.  The  systematic  character 
of  resistance  holds  good,  as  I  believe  I  have  proved,  even  in 
schizophrenia.  So  long  as  this  position,  founded  upon  a 
great  variety  of  experience,  is  not  disproved  by  any  other 
observations,  the  theory  of  negativism  must  adapt  itself 
to  it.  Bleuler  in  a  sense  supports  this  when  he  says : 
“  For  the  most  part  the  negative  reaction  does  not  simply 
appear  as  accidental,  but  is  actually  preferred  to  the  right 
oneT  This  admits  that  negativism  is  of  the  nature  of 
resistance.  Once  admit  this,  and  the  primary  importance  of 
ambivalency  disappears  so  far  as  negativism  is  concerned. 
The  tendency  to  resistance  remains  as  the  only  fundamental 
principle.  Ambivalency  can  in  no  sense  be  put  on  all  fours 
with  the  “  schizophrenic  splitting  of  the  psyche,”  but  must 
be  regarded  as  a  concept  which  gives  expression  to  the 
universal  and  ever-present  inner  association  of  pairs  of 
opposites.  (One  of  the  most  remarkable  examples  of  this 
is  the  “  contrary  meaning  of  root-words.”  See  Freud’s 


202 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


“  Essay  on  Dreams,”  Jahrbuch,  vol.  II.,  p.  179.)  The 
same  thing  applies  to  ambitendency.  Neither  is  specific 
of  schizophrenia,  but  applies  equally  to  the  neuroses  and 
the  normal.  All  that  remains  to  katatonic  negativism  is 
the  intentional  contrasty  i.e.  the  resistance.  From  this  expla¬ 
nation  we  see  that  resistance  is  something  different  from 
ambivalency ;  it  is  the  dynamic  factor  which  makes  manifest 
the  ambivalency  everywhere  latent.  What  is  characteristic 
of  the  diseased  mind  is  not  ambivalency  but  resistance. 
This  implies  the  existence  of  a  conflict  between  two  opposite 
tendencies  which  has  succeeded  in  raising  the  normally 
present  ambivalency  into  a  struggle  of  opposing  components. 
(Freud  has  very  aptly  called  this,  “  The  separation  of  pairs 
of  opposites.”)  In  other  words  it  is  a  conflict  of  wills,  bring¬ 
ing  about  the  neurotic  condition  of  “  disharmony  within  the 
self.”  This  condition  is  the  only  “  splitting  of  the  psyche  ” 
known  to  us,  and  is  not  so  much  to  be  regarded  as  a  pre¬ 
disposing  cause,  but  rather  as  a  manifestation  resulting 
from  the  inner  conflict — the  “incompatibility  of  the  complex” 
(Riklin). 

Resistance}  as  the  fundamental  fact  of  schizophrenic  dis¬ 
sociation,  thus  becomes  something  which,  in  contra-distinc¬ 
tion  to  ambivalency,  is  not  eo  ipso  identical  with  the  concept 
of  the  state  of  feeling,  but  is  a  secondary  and  supplementary 
one,  with  its  own  special  and  quasi  independent  psycholo¬ 
gical  development ;  and  this  is  identical  with  the  necessary 
previous  history  of  the  complex  in  every  case.  It  follows 
that  the  theory  of  negativism  coincides  with  the  theory  of 
the  complex,  as  the  complex  is  the  cause  of  the  resistance. 

Bleuler  summarises  the  causes  of  negativism  as  follows  : 

(a)  The  autistic  retirement  of  the  patient  into  his  own 

phantasies. 

(b)  The  existence  of  a  life-wound  (complex)  which  must 

be  protected  from  injury. 

( c )  The  misconception  of  the  environment  and  of  its 

meaning. 

(d)  The  directly  hostile  relation  to  environment. 

(e)  The  pathological  irritability  of  schizophrenics. 


SCHIZOPHRENIC  NEGATIVISM  203 

I 

( f )  The  “  press  of  ideas,”  and  other  aggravations  of 

action  and  thought. 

( g )  Sexuality  with  its  ambivaleney  on  the  emotional  plane 

is  often  one  of  the  roots  of  negative  reaction. 

(a)  Autistic  withdrawal  into  one’s  own  phantasies1  is 
what  I  formerly  designated  as  the  obvious  overgrowth  of  the 
phantasies  of  the  complex.  The  strengthening  of  the  complex 
is  coincident  with  the  increase  of  the  resistance. 

(b)  The  life-wound  ( Lebenswund )  is  the  complex  which,  as 
a  matter  of  course,  is  present  in  every  case  of  schizophrenia, 
and  of  necessity  always  carries  with  it  the  phenomena  of 
autism  or  auto-erotism  (introversion),  for  complexes  and  in¬ 
voluntary  egocentricity  are  inseparable  reciprocities.  Points 
(a)  and  (b)  are  therefore  identical.  ( Of .  “  Psychology  of 
Dementia  Praecox,”  chapters  ii.  and  iii.) 

(c)  It  is  proved  that  the  misconception  of  environment 
is  an  assimilation  of  the  complex. 

(d)  The  hostile  relation  to  environment  is  the  maximum 
of  resistance  as  psychoanalysis  clearly  shows,  (d)  goes 
with  (a). 

(e)  “  Irritability  ”  proves  itself  psychoanalytically  to  be 
one  of  the  commonest  results  of  the  complex.  I  designated 
it  complex-sensibility.  Its  generalised  form  (if  one  may  use 
such  an  expression)  shows  itself  as  a  damming  up  of  the 
affect  (=  damming  of  the  libidd)y  consequent  on  increased 
resistance.  So-called  neurasthenia  is  a  classical  example 
of  this. 

(/)  Under  the  term  “  press  of  ideas,”  and  similar  in¬ 
tellectual  troubles,  may  be  classified  the  (<  want  of  clearness 
and  logic  of  the  schizophrenic  thinking,”  which  Bleuler 
considers  a  predisposing  cause.  I  have,  as  I  may  presume 
is  known,  expressed  myself  with  much  reserve  on  what  he 
regards  as  the  premeditation  of  the  schizophrenic  adjust¬ 
ment.  Further  and  wider  experience  has  taught  me  that 
the  laws  of  the  Freudian  psychology  of  dreams  and  the 

1  Autism  (Bleuler)  =  Auto-erotism  (Freud).  For  some  time  I  have  em¬ 
ployed  the  concept  of  introversion  for  this  condition. 


204 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


theory  of  the  neuroses  must  be  turned  towards  the  ob¬ 
scurities  of  schizophrenic  thinking.  The  painfulness  of  the 
elaborated  complex  necessitates  a  censorship  of  its  expression } 
This  principle  has  to  be  applied  to  schizophrenic  disturbance 
ol  thinking ;  and  until  it  has  been  proved  that  this  principle 
is  not  applicable  to  schizophrenia,  there  is  no  justification 
for  setting  up  a  new  principle ;  i.e.  to  postulate  that  schizo¬ 
phrenic  disturbance  of  ideas  is  something  primary.  Investi¬ 
gations  of  hypnagogic  activity,  as  well  as  association  reactions 
in  states  of  concentrated  attention,  give  psychical  results 
which  up  to  now  are  indistinguishable  from  the  mental 
conditions  in  schizophrenia.  For  example,  an  heightened- 
flowing  intensity  (“  Ausgiebige  Entspannung  ”)  of  attention 
suffices  to  conjure  up  images  as  like  as  two  peas  to  the 
phantasies  and  expressions  of  schizophrenia.  It  will  be  re¬ 
membered  that  I  have  attributed  the  notorious  disturbances 
of  attention  in  schizophrenia  to  the  special  character  of 
the  complex ;  an  idea  which  further  experiences  since  1906 
have  confirmed.  I  have  found  good  reasons  for  considering 
specific  schizophrenic  thought-disturbance  to  be  the  result  of 
a  complex . 

Now  as  regards  the  symptoms  of  thought-pressure,  it  is 
first  and  foremost  a  thought-compulsion,  which,  as  Freud 
has  well  shown,  is  first  a  thought-complex  and  secondly  a 
sexualisation  of  the  thought.  Then  to  the  symptom  of  thought- 
pressure  there  is  superadded  at  least  a  demoniac  impulse 
such  as  may  be  observed  in  every  vigorous  release  or  production 
of  libido . 

Thought-pressure,  on  closer  examination,  is  seen  to  be  a 
result  of  schizophrenic  introversion,  which  necessarily  leads 
to  a  sexualisation  of  the  thought ;  i.e.  to  an  autonomy  of  the 
complex.2 

(o)  The  transition  to  sexuality  appears  from  the  psycho¬ 
analytical  standpoint  difficult  to  understand.  If  we  consider 
that  the  development  of  resistance  coincides  in  every  case 
with  the  history  of  the  complex  we  must  ask  ourselves  : 


1  Hence  the  replacing  of  the  complex  by  its  corresponding  symbol. 
See  “  Psychology  of  Dementia  Praecox,”  chapters  iv.  and  v. 


SCHIZOPHRENIC  NEGATIVISM 


205 


Is  the  complex  sexual  or  not  ?  (It  goes  without  saying  that 
we  must  understand  sexuality  in  its  proper  sense  of  psycho¬ 
sexuality.)  To  this  question  psychoanalysis  gives  the  invari¬ 
able  answer :  Resistance  always  springs  from  a  peculiar  sexual 
development .  The  latter  leads  in  the  well-known  manner  to 
conflict,  i.e.  to  the  complex.  Every  case  of  schizophrenia 
which  has  so  far  been  analysed  confirms  this.  It  can  there¬ 
fore  claim  at  least  to  be  a  working  hypothesis,  and  one  to 
be  followed  up.  In  the  present  state  of  our  knowledge,  it 
is  therefore  not  easy  to  see  why  Bleuler  only  allows  to 
sexuality  a  gwasi-determining  influence  on  the  phenomena 
of  negativism ;  for  psychoanalysis  demonstrates  that  the 
cause  of  negativism  is  resistance  ;  and  that  with  schizo¬ 
phrenia,  as  with  all  other  neuroses,  this  arises  from  the 
peculiar  sexual  development. 

It  can  scarcely  be  doubted  to-day  that  schizophrenia, 
with  its  preponderance  of  the  mechanisms  of  introversion, 
possesses  the  same  mechanism  as  any  other  “  psycho¬ 
neurosis.”  In  my  opinion,  at  any  rate,  its  peculiar  symptoms 
(apart  from  the  clinical  and  anatomical  standpoints)  are  only 
to  be  studied  by  psychoanalysis,  i.e .  when  the  investigation 
is  mainly  directed  to  the  genetic  impetus.  I  have,  therefore, 
endeavoured  to  indicate  how  Bleuler’s  hypothesis  stands  in 
the  light  of  the  theory  of  complexes ;  I  feel  myself  bound  to 
emphasise  the  complex-theory  in  this  relation,  and  am  not 
disposed  to  surrender  this  conception,  which  is  as  illumi¬ 
nating  as  it  was  difficult  to  evolve. 


CHAPTER  VII 
PSYCHOANALYSIS 1 

Psychoanalysis  is  not  only  scientific,  but  also  technical  in 
character ;  and  from  results  technical  in  their  nature,  has 
been  developed  a  new  psychological  science  which  might  be 
called  “  analytical  psychology.” 

Psychologists  and  doctors  in  general  are  by  no  means 
conversant  with  this  particular  branch  of  psychology,  owing 
to  the  fact  that  its  technical  foundations  are  as  yet  com¬ 
paratively  unknown  to  them.  Reason  for  this  may  be  found 
in  that  the  new  method  is  exquisitely  psychological,  and 
therefore  belongs  neither  to  the  realm  of  medicine  nor  to 
that  of  experimental  psychology.  The  medical  man  has, 
as  a  rule,  but  little  knowledge  of  psychology;  and  the 
psychologist  has  no  medical  knowledge.  There  is  therefore 
a  lack  of  suitable  soil  in  which  to  plant  the  spirit  of  this 
new  method.  Furthermore,  the  method  itself  appears  to 
many  persons  so  arbitrary  that  they  cannot  reconcile  it  with 
their  scientific  conscience.  The  conceptions  of  Freud,  the 
founder  of  this  method,  laid  particular  stress  upon  the  sexual 
moment ;  this  fact  has  aroused  strong  prejudice,  and  many 
scientific  men  are  repelled  merely  by  this  feeling.  I  need 
hardly  remark  that  such  an  antipathy  is  not  a  logical  ground 
for  rejecting  a  new  method.  The  facts  being  so,  it  is  obvious 
that  the  psychoanalyst  should  discuss  the  principles  rather 
than  the  results  of  his  method,  when  he  speaks  in  public  ; 
for  he  who  does  not  acknowledge  the  scientific  character  of 
the  method  cannot  acknowledge  the  scientific  character  of 
its  results. 

Before  I  enter  into  the  principles  of  the  psychoanalytic 
method,  I  must  mention  two  common  prejudices  against  it. 

1  Reprinted  from  the  Transactions  of  the  Psyclio-Medical  Society , 
August  5th,  1913. 


PSYCHOANALYSIS 


207 


The  first  of  these  is  that  psychoanalysis  is  nothing  but  a 
somewhat  deep  and  complicated  form  of  anamnesis.  Now  it 
is  well  known  that  the  anamnesis  is  based  upon  the  evidence 
supplied  by  the  patient’s  family,  and  upon  his  own  conscious 
self-knowledge,  revealed  in  reply  to  direct  questions.  The 
psychoanalyst  naturally  develops  his  anamnesic  data  as 
carefully  as  any  other  specialist;  but  this  is  merely  the 
patient’s  history,  and  must  not  be  confused  with  analysis. 
Analysis  is  the  reduction  of  an  actual  conscious  content  of  a 
so-called  accidental  nature,  into  its  psychological  determi¬ 
nants.  This  process  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  anamnesic 
reconstruction  of  the  history  of  the  illness. 

The  second  prejudice,  which  is  based,  as  a  rule,  upon  a 
superficial  knowledge  of  psychoanalytic  literature,  is  that 
psychoanalysis  is  a  method  of  suggestion,  by  which  a  faith 
or  doctrine  of  living  is  imposed  upon  the  patient,  thereby 
effecting  a  cure  in  the  manner  of  mental  healing  or  Chris¬ 
tian  Science.  Many  analysts,  especially  those  who  have 
worked  in  psychoanalysis  for  a  long  time,  previously  used 
therapeutic  suggestion,  and  are  therefore  familiar  with  its 
workings.  They  know  that  the  psychoanalyst’s  method  of 
working  is  diametrically  opposed  to  that  of  the  hypnotist. 
In  direct  contrast  with  therapeutic  suggestion,  the  psycho¬ 
analyst  does  not  attempt  to  force  anything  upon  his  patient 
which  the  latter  does  not  see  himself,  and  find  reasonable 
with  his  own  understanding.  Faced  with  the  constant  desire 
on  the  part  of  the  neurotic  patient  to  receive  suggestions  and 
advice,  the  analyst  just  as  constantly  endeavours  to  lead  him 
away  from  this  passive  receptive  attitude,  and  make  him 
use  his  common  sense  and  powers  of  criticism,  that  equipped 
with  these  he  may  become  fitted  to  meet  the  problems  of 
life  independently.  We  have  often  been  accused  of  forcing 
interpretations  upon  patients,  interpretations  that  were  fre¬ 
quently  quite  arbitrary  in  character.  I  wish  that  one  of 
these  critics  would  make  the  attempt  to  force  such  arbitrary 
interpretations  upon  my  patients,  who  are  often  persons  of 
great  intelligence  and  high  culture,  and  who  are,  indeed,  not 
infrequently  my  own  colleagues.  The  impossibility  of  such 


208 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


an  undei  taking  would  soon  be  laid  bare.  In  psychoanalysis 
we  are  dependent  upon  the  patient  and  his  judgment,  for  the 
reason  that  the  very  nature  of  analysis  consists  in  leading 
him  to  a  knowledge  of  his  own  self.  The  principles  of 
psychoanalysis  are  so  entirely  different  from  those  of 
therapeutic  suggestion  that  they  are  not  comparable. 

An  attempt  has  also  been  made  to  compare  analysis 
with  the  reasoning  method  of  Dubois,  which  is  in  itself  a 
rational  process.  This  comparison  does  not  however  hold 
good,  for  the  psychoanalyst  strictly  avoids  argument  and 
persuasion  with  his  patients.  He  must  naturally  listen  to 
and  take  note  of  the  conscious  problems  and  conflicts  of 
his  patient,  but  not  for  the  purpose  of  fulfilling  his  desire 
to  obtain  advice  or  direction  with  regard  to  his  conduct. 
The  problems  of  a  neurotic  patient  cannot  be  solved  by 
advice  and  conscious  argument.  I  do  not  doubt  that  good 
advice  at  the  right  time  can  produce  good  results ;  but  I  do 
not  know  whence  one  can  obtain  the  belief  that  the  psycho¬ 
analyst  can  always  give  the  right  advice  at  the  right  time. 
The  neurotic  conflict  is  frequently,  indeed  as  a  rule,  of  such 
a  character  that  advice  cannot  possibly  be  given.  Further¬ 
more,  it  is  well  known  that  the  patient  only  desires  authori¬ 
tative  advice  in  order  that  he  may  cast  aside  the  burden  of 
responsibility,  referring  himself  and  others  to  the  opinion  of 
the  higher  authority. 

In  direct  contrast  to  all  previous  methods,  psycho¬ 
analysis  endeavours  to  overcome  the  disorders  of  the 
neurotic  psyche  through  the  sub-conscious,  not  through  the 
conscious  self.  In  this  work  we  naturally  have  need  of 
the  patient’s  conscious  content,  for  his  sub-consciousness  can 
only  be  reached  via  the  conscious.  The  material  furnished 
by  the  anamnesis  is  the  source  from  which  our  work  starts. 
The  detailed  recital  usually  furnishes  many  valuable  clues 
which  make  the  psychogenic  origin  of  the  symptoms  clear  to 
the  patient.  This  work  is  naturally  only  necessary  where 
the  patient  is  convinced  that  his  neurosis  is  organic  in  its 
origin.  But  even  in  those  cases  where  the  patient  is  con¬ 
vinced  from  the  very  first  of  the  psychic  nature  of  his  illness, 


PSYCHOANALYSIS 


209 


a  critical  survey  of  the  history  is  very  advantageous,  since  it 
discloses  to  him  a  psychological  concatenation  of  ideas  of 
which  he  was  unaware.  In  this  manner  those  problems 
which  need  special  discussion  are  frequently  brought  to 
the  surface.  Work  of  this  kind  may  occupy  many  sittings. 
Finally  the  explanation  of  the  conscious  material  reaches  an 
end,  in  so  far  as  neither  the  patient  nor  the  doctor  can  add 
anything  to  it  that  is  decisive  in  character.  Under  the  most 
favourable  circumstances  the  end  comes  with  the  formulation 
of  the  problem,  which  proves  itself  to  be  impossible  of  solution. 
Let  us  take,  for  instance,  the  case  of  a  man  who  was  once 
well,  but  who  became  a  neurotic  between  the  age  of  85  and 
40.  His  position  in  life  is  assured,  and  he  has  a  wife  and 
children.  Parallel  with  his  neurosis  he  developed  an  intense 
resistance  towards  his  professional  work.  He  observed  that 
the  first  symptoms  of  neurosis  became  noticeable  when  he 
had  to  overcome  a  certain  difficulty  in  regard  to  it.  Later 
on  his  symptoms  became  aggravated  with  each  successive 
difficulty  that  arose.  An  amelioration  in  his  neurosis  oc¬ 
curred  whenever  fortune  favoured  him  in  his  professional 
work.  The  problem  that  results  from  a  critical  discussion 
of  the  anamnesis  is  as  follows  : — 

The  patient  is  aware  that  if  he  could  improve  his  work, 
the  mere  satisfaction  that  would  result  could  bring  about 
the  much-desired  improvement  in  his  neurotic  condition.  He 
cannot,  however,  make  his  work  more  efficient  because  of  his 
great  resistance  against  it.  This  problem  cannot  be  solved 
by  any  reasoning  process. 

Let  us  take  another  case.  A  woman  of  40,  the  mother 
of  four  children,  became  neurotic  four  years  ago  after  the 
death  of  one  of  her  children.  A  new  period  of  pregnancy, 
followed  by  the  birth  of  another  child,  produced  a  great 
improvement  in  her  condition.  The  patient  now  lived  in  the 
thought  that  it  would  be  a  great  help  to  her  if  she  could 
have  yet  another  child.  Believing,  however,  that  this  could 
not  happen,  she  attempted  to  devote  her  energies  to  philan¬ 
thropic  interests.  But  she  failed  to  obtain  the  least  satis¬ 
faction  from  this  work.  She  observed  a  distinct  alleviation 

14 


210  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

of  her  complaint  whenever  she  succeeded  in  giving  real, 
living  interest  to  any  matter,  but  she  felt  entirely  incapable 
of  discovering  anything  that  could  bring  her  lasting  interest 
and  satisfaction.  It  is  clear  that  no  process  of  leasoning 
can  solve  this  problem. 

Here  psychoanalysis  must  begin  with  the  endeavour  to 
solve  the  problem  as  to  what  prevents  the  patient  from 
developing  interests  above  and  beyond  her  longing  for  a  child. 

Since  we  cannot  assume  that  we  know  from  the  veiy 
beginning  what  the  solution  of  such  problems  is,  we  must  at 
this  point  trust  to  the  clues  furnished  us  by  the  individuality 
of  the  patient.  Neither  conscious  questioning  nor  rational 
advice  can  aid  us  in  the  discovery  of  these  clues,  for  the 
causes  which  prevent  us  from  finding  them  are  hidden  from 
her  consciousness.  There  is,  therefore,  no  clearly  indicated 
path  by  which  to  reach  these  sub-conscious  inhibitions.  The 
only  rule  that  psychoanalysis  lays  down  for  our  guidance  in 
this  respect,  is  to  let  the  patient  speak  of  that  which  occurs 
to  him  at  the  moment.  The  analyst  must  observe  carefully 
what  the  patient  says,  and  in  the  first  instance,  take  due 
note  thereof  without  attempting  to  force  his  own  opinions 
upon  him.  Thus  we  observe  that  the  patient  whom  I  first 
mentioned  begins  by  talking  about  his  marriage,  which  we 
hitherto  had  reason  to  regard  as  normal.  We  now  learn 
that  he  constantly  has  difficulties  with  his  wife,  and  that 
he  does  not  understand  her  in  the  least.  This  knowledge 
causes  the  physician  to  remark  that  the  patient  s  professional 
work  is  clearly  not  his  only  problem ;  but  that  his  conjugal 
relations  are  also  in  need  of  revision.  This  starts  a  train  of 
thought  in  which  many  further  ideas  occur  to  the  patient, 
concerning  his  married  life.  Hereupon  follow  ideas  about 
the  love  affairs  he  had  before  his  marriage.  These  expe¬ 
riences,  related  in  detail,  show  that  the  patient  was  always 
somewhat  peculiar  in  his  more  intimate  relations  with  women, 
and  that  this  peculiarity  took  the  form  of  a  certain  childish 
egoism.  This  is  a  new  and  surprising  point  of  view  for  him, 
and  explains  to  him  many  of  his  misfortunes  with  women. 

We  cannot  in  every  case  get  so  far  as  this  on  the  simple 


PSYCHOANALYSIS 


211 


principle  of  letting  the  patient  talk ;  few  patients  have  their 
psychic  material  so  much  on  the  surface.  Furthermore, 
many  persons  have  a  positive  resistance  against  speaking 
freely  about  what  occurs  to  them  on  the  spur  of  the  moment ; 
it  is  often  too  painful  to  tell  the  doctor,  whom  perhaps  they 
do  not  entirely  trust ;  in  other  cases  because  apparently 
nothing  occurs  to  them,  they  force  themselves  to  speak  of 
matters  about  which  they  are  more  or  less  indifferent.  This 
habit  of  not  talking  to  the  point  by  no  means  proves  that 
patients  consciously  conceal  their  unpleasant  contents,  for 
such  irrelevant  speaking  can  occur  quite  unconsciously.  In 
such  cases  it  sometimes  helps  the  patient  if  he  is  told  that 
he  must  not  force  himself,  that  he  must  only  seize  upon  the 
very  first  thoughts  that  present  themselves,  no  matter  how 
unimportant  or  ridiculous  they  may  seem.  In  certain  cases 
even  these  instructions  are  of  no  use,  and  then  the  doctor  is 
obliged  to  have  recourse  to  other  expedients.  One  of  these 
is  the  employment  of  the  association  test,  which  usually  gives 
excellent  information  as  to  the  chief  momentary  tendencies 
of  the  individual. 

A  second  expedient  is  dream  analysis ;  this  is  the  real 
instrument  of  psychoanalysis.  We  have  already  experienced 
so  much  opposition  to  dream  analysis  that  a  brief  exposi¬ 
tion  of  its  principles  is  necessary.  The  interpretation  of 
dreams,  as  well  as  the  meaning  given  to  them,  is,  as  we 
know,  in  bad  odour.  It  is  not  long  since  that  oneirocritics 
were  practised  and  believed  in ;  nor  is  the  time  long  past 
when  even  the  most  enlightened  human  beings  were  entirely 
under  the  ban  of  superstition.  It  is  therefore  comprehensible 
that  our  age  should  still  retain  a  certain  lively  fear  of  those 
superstitions  which  have  but  recently  been  partially  over¬ 
come.  To  this  timidity  in  regard  to  superstition,  the  oppo¬ 
sition  to  dream  analysis  is  in  a  large  measure  due;  but 
analysis  is  in  no  wise  to  blame  for  this.  We  do  not  select 
the  dream  as  our  object  because  we  pay  it  the  homage  of 
superstitious  admiration,  but  because  it  is  a  psychic  product 
that  is  independent  of  the  patient’s  consciousness.  We  ask 
for  the  patient’s  free  thoughts,  but  he  gives  us  little,  or 


212  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

nothing ;  or  at  best  something  forced  or  irrelevant.  Dreams 
are  free  thoughts,  free  phantasies,  they  are  not  forced,  and 
they  are  psychic  phenomena  just  as  much  as  thoughts  are. 

It  may  be  said  of  the  dream  that  it  enters  into  the  con¬ 
sciousness  as  a  complex  structure,  the  connection  between 
the  elements  of  which  is  not  conscious.  Only  by  afterwards 
mining  associations  to  the  separate  pictures  of  the  dream,  can 
the  origin  of  these  pictures,  in  certain  recollections  of  the 
near  and  more  remote  past,  be  proved.  One  asks  oneself : 

“  Where  have  I  seen  or  heard  that  ?  ”  And  by  the  same 
process  of  free  association  comes  the  memory  that  one  has 
actually  experienced  certain  parts  of  the  dream,  some  of 
them  yesterday,  some  at  an  earlier  date.  This  is  well  known, 
and  every  one  will  probably  agree  to  it.  Thus  far  the  dream 
presents  itself,  as  a  rule,  as  an  incomprehensible  composi¬ 
tion  of  certain  elements  which  are  not  in  the  first  instance 
conscious,  but  which  are  later  recognised  by  the  process  of 
free  association.  This  might  be  disputed  on  the  ground  that 
it  is  an  a  priori  statement.  I  must  remark,  however,  that 
this  conception  conforms  to  the  only  generally  recognised 
working  hypothesis  as  to  the  genesis  of  dreams,  namely,  the 
derivation  of  the  dream  from  experiences  and  thoughts  of 
the  recent  past.  We  are,  therefore,  upon  known  ground. 
Not  that  certain  dream  parts  have  under  all  circumstances 
been  known  to  the  individual,  so  that  one  might  ascribe 
to  them  the  character  of  being  conscious ;  on  the  contrary, 
they  are  frequently,  even  generally,  unrecognisable.  Not 
until  later  do  we  remember  having  consciously  experienced 
this  or  that  dream  part.  We  may  therefore  regard  the 
dream  from  this  point  of  view  as  a  product  that  comes  from 
a  subconscious  origin.  The  technical  unfolding  of  these 
subconscious  sources  is  a  mode  of  procedure  that  has  a  ways 
been  instinctively  employed.  One  simply  tries  to  remember 
whence  the  dream  parts  come.  Upon  this  most  simp  e 
principle  the  psychoanalytic  method  of  solving  dreams  is 
based.  It  is  a  fact  that  certain  dream  parts  are  dem  e 
from  our  waking  life  and,  indeed,  from  experiences  which, 
owing  to  their  notorious  lack  of  importance,  would  frequen  y 


PSYCHOANALYSIS 


213 


have  been  consigned  to  certain  oblivion,  and  were  therefore 
well  on  their  way  towards  becoming  definitely  subconscious. 
Such  dream  parts  are  the  results  of  subconscious  represen¬ 
tations  (images). 

The  principles  according  to  which  psychoanalysis  solves 
dreams  are  therefore  exceedingly  simple,  and  have  really 
been  known  for  a  long  time.  The  further  procedure  follows 
the  same  path  logically  and  consistently.  If  one  spends 
considerable  time  over  a  dream,  which  really  never  happens 
outside  psychoanalysis,  one  can  succeed  in  finding  more 
and  more  recollections  for  the  separate  dream  parts.  It  is, 
however,  not  always  possible  to  discover  recollections  for 
certain  other  parts ;  and  then  one  must  leave  them  for  the 
time  being,  whether  one  likes  it  or  not.  When  I  speak  of 
“  recollections  ”  I  naturally  do  not  mean  merely  memories  of 
certain  concrete  experiences,  but  also  of  their  inter-related 
meanings.  The  collected  recollections  are  known  as  the 
dream  material.  With  this  material  one  proceeds  according 
to  a  scientific  method  that  is  universally  valid.  If  one  has 
any  experimental  material  to  work  up,  one  compares  its 
separate  parts  and  arranges  them  according  to  their  simi¬ 
larities.  Exactly  the  same  course  is  pursued  in  dealing 
with  the  dream  material ;  one  gathers  together  its  common 
characteristics,  whether  these  be  formal  or  material.  In 
doing  this  one  must  absolutely  get  rid  of  certain  prejudices. 
I  have  always  observed  that  the  beginner  expects  to  find 
some  tendency  or  other  according  to  which  he  endeavours  to 
mould  his  material.  I  have  noticed  this  particularly  in  the 
cases  of  colleagues  who  were  previously  more  or  less  violent 
opponents  of  psychoanalysis,  owing  to  their  well-known 
prejudices  and  misunderstandings.  When  fate  willed  that 
I  should  analyse  them,  and  they  consequently  gained  at  last 
an  insight  into  the  method  of  analysis,  it  was  demonstrated 
that  the  first  mistake  which  they  had  been  apt  to  make  in 
their  own  psychoanalytic  practice  was  that  they  forced  the 
material  into  accord  with  their  own  preconceived  opinions ; 
that  is,  they  allowed  their  former  attitude  towards  psycho¬ 
analysis,  which  they  were  not  able  to  appreciate  objectively, 


214 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


but  only  according  to  subjective  phantasies,  to  have  its 
influence  upon  their  material.  If  one  goes  so  far  as  to 
venture  upon  the  task  of  examining  the  dream  material,  one 
must  permit  no  comparison  to  frighten  one  away.  The 
material  consists,  as  a  general  rule,  of  very  unequal  images, 
from  which  it  is  under  some  circumstances  most  difficult  to 
obtain  the  “tertium  comparationis.”  I  must  forego  giving 
you  detailed  examples  of  this,  since  it  is  quite  impossible  to 
introduce  such  extensive  material  into  a  lecture. 

One  pursues,  then,  the  same  method  in  classifying  the 
unconscious  content,  as  is  used  everywhere  in  comparing 
materials  for  the  purpose  of  drawing  conclusions  from  them. 
One  objection  has  often  been  made,  namely  :  why  should  the 
dream  have  a  subconscious  content  at  all?  This  objection 
is  unscientific  in  my  opinion.  Every  psychological  moment 
has  its  own  history.  Every  sentence  that  I  utter  has,  besides 
the  meaning  consciously  intended  by  me,  a  meaning  that  is 
historical ;  and  this  last  may  be  entirely  different  from  the 
conscious  meaning.  I  am  purposely  expressing  myself  some¬ 
what  paradoxically.  I  certainly  should  not  take  it  upon 
myself  to  explain  each  sentence  according  to  its  individual- 
historical  meaning.  That  is  easier  in  the  case  of  larger  and 
more  complex  formations.  Every  one  is  certainly  convinced 
of  the  fact  that  a  poem — in  addition  to  its  manifest  contents 
— is  also  particularly  characteristic  of  its  author,  in  its  form, 
subject-matter,  and  the  history  of  its  origin.  Whereas  the 
poet  gave  skilful  expression  to  a  fleeting  mood  in  his  song, 
the  historian  of  literature  sees  in  it  and  beyond  it,  things 
which  the  poet  would  never  have  suspected.  The  analysis 
which  the  literary  critic  makes  of  the  subject-matter  furnished 
by  the  poet  may  be  compared  with  psychoanalysis  in  its 
method,  even  to  the  very  errors  which  occur  therein.  The 
psychoanalytic  method  may  be  aptly  compared  with  his¬ 
torical  analysis  and  synthesis.  Let  us  assume,  for  instance, 
that  we  do  not  understand  the  meaning  of  the  rite  of 
baptism  as  it  is  practised  in  our  churches  to-day.  The 
priest  tells  us  that  baptism  means  the  reception  of  the  child 
into  the  Christian  community.  But  we  are  not  satisfied  with 


PSYCHOANALYSIS 


215 


this.  Why  should  the  child  be  sprinkled  with  water,  etc.  ? 
In  order  that  we  may  understand  this  rite  we  must  gather 
together  materials  for  comparison  from  the  history  of  the 
rite,  that  is,  from  the  memories  of  mankind  appertaining  to 
it ;  and  this  must  be  done  from  various  points  of  view. 

Firstly — Baptism  is  clearly  a  rite  of  initiation,  a  con¬ 
secration.  Therefore  those  memories,  above  all,  must  be 
assembled  which  preserve  the  rites  of  initiation. 

Secondly — The  act  of  baptism  is  performed  with  water. 
This  especial  form  of  procedure  proves  the  necessity  of  weld¬ 
ing  together  another  chain  of  memories  concerning  rites  in 
which  water  was  used. 

Thirdly — The  child  is  sprinkled  with  water  when  it  is 
christened.  In  this  case  we  must  gather  together  all  the 
forms  of  the  rite,  as  where  the  neophyte  is  sprinkled,  or 

where  the  child  is  submerged,  etc. 

Fourthly— We  must  recollect  all  the  reminiscences  in 
mythology  and  all  the  superstitious  customs  which  are  in  any 
respect  similar  to  the  symbolic  act  of  baptism. 

In  this  manner  we  obtain  a  comparative  study  of  the  act 
of  baptism.  Thus  we  ascertain  the  elements  from  which 
baptism  is  derived  ;  we  further  ascertain  its  original  meaning, 
and  at  the  same  time  make  the  acquaintance  of  a  world  rich 
in  religious  mythology,  which  makes  clear  to  us  all  the 
multifarious  and  derived  meanings  of  the  act  of  baptism. 
Thus  the  analyst  deals  with  the  dream.  He  gathers  together 
historical  parallels  for  each  dream  part,  even  though  they 
be  very  remote,  and  attempts  to  construct  the  psychologi¬ 
cal  history  of  the  dream  and  the  meanings  that  underlie  it. 
By  this  monographic  elaboration  of  the  dream  one  gains, 
exactly  as  in  the  analysis  of  the  act  of  baptism,  a  deep  insight 
into  the  wonderfully  subtle  and  significant  network  of  sub¬ 
conscious  determinations ;  an  insight  which,  as  I  have  said, 
can  only  be  compared  with  the  historical  understanding  of 
an  act  that  we  used  only  to  consider  from  a  very  one-sided 
and  superficial  point  of  view. 

I  cannot  disguise  the  fact  that  in  practice,  especially  at 
the  beginning  of  an  analysis,  we  do  not  in  all  cases  make 


216 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


complete  and  ideal  analyses  of  dreams,  but  that  we  more 
generally  continue  to  gather  together  the  dream  associations 
until  the  problem  which  the  patient  hides  from  us  becomes 
so  clear  that  even  he  can  recognize  it.  This  problem  is  then 
subjected  to  conscious  elaboration  until  it  is  cleared  up  as 
far  as  possible,  and  once  again  we  stand  before  a  question 
that  cannot  be  answered. 

You  will  now  ask  what  course  is  to  be  pursued  when  the 
patient  does  not  dream  at  all ;  I  can  assure  you  that  hitherto 
all  patients,  even  those  who  claimed  never  to  have  dreamed 
before,  began  to  dream  when  they  went  through  analysis. 
But  on  the  other  hand  it  frequently  occurs  that  patients  who 
began  by  dreaming  vividly  are  suddenly  no  longer  able  to 
remember  their  dreams.  The  empirical  and  practical  rule, 
which  I  have  hitherto  regarded  as  binding,  is  that  the  patient, 
if  he  does  not  dream,  has  sufficient  conscious  material,  which 
he  keeps  back  for  certain  reasons.  A  common  reason  is  : 
“  I  am  in  the  doctor’s  hands  and  am  quite  willing  to  be 
treated  by  him.  But  the  doctor  must  do  the  work,  I  shall 
remain  passive  in  the  matter.” 

Sometimes  the  resistances  are  of  a  more  serious  character. 
For  instance,  persons  who  cannot  admit  certain  morally 
grave  sides  to  their  characters,  project  their  deficiencies  upon 
the  doctor  by  calmly  presuming  that  he  is  more  or  less 
deficient  morally,  and  that  for  this  reason  they  cannot 
communicate  certain  unpleasant  things  to  him.  If,  then, 
a  patient  does  not  dream  from  the  beginning,  or  ceases  to 
dream,  he  retains  material  which  is  susceptible  of  conscious 
elaboration.  Here  the  personal  relation  between  the  doctor 
and  his  patient  may  be  regarded  as  the  chief  hindrance.  It 
can  prevent  them  both,  the  doctor  as  well  as  the  patient, 
from  seeing  the  situation  clearly.  We  must  not  forget  that, 
as  the  doctor  shows,  and  must  show,  a  searching  interest  in 
the  psychology  of  his  patient,  so,  too,  the  patient,  if  he  has 
an  active  mind,  gains  some  familiarity  with  the  psychology 
of  the  doctor,  and  assumes  a  corresponding  attitude  towards 
him.  Thus  the  doctor  is  blind  to  the  mental  attitude  of 
the  patient  to  the  exact  extent  that  he  does  not  see  himself 


PSYCHOANALYSIS 


217 


and  his  own  subconscious  problems.  Therefore  I  main¬ 
tain  that  a  doctor  must  be  analysed  before  he  practises 
analysis.  Otherwise  the  practice  of  analysis  can  easily  be  a 
great  disappointment  to  him,  because  he  can,  under  certain 
circumstances,  reach  a  point  where  further  progress  is 
impossible,  a  situation  which  may  make  him  lose  his  head. 
He  is  then  readily  inclined  to  assume  that  psychoanalysis  is 
nonsense,  so  as  to  avoid  the  admission  that  he  has  run  his 
vessel  ashore.  If  you  are  sure  of  your  own  psychology  you 
can  confidently  tell  your  patient  that  he  does  not  dream 
because  there  is  still  conscious  material  to  be  disposed  of. 

I  say  that  one  must  be  sure  of  one’s  self  in  such  cases,  for 
the  opinions  and  unsparing  criticisms  to  which  one  some¬ 
times  has  to  submit,  can  be  excessively  disturbing  to  one 
who  is  unprepared  to  meet  them.  The  immediate  conse¬ 
quence  of  such  a  loss  of  personal  balance  on  the  part  of  the 
doctor  is  that  he  begins  to  argue  with  his  patient,  in  order 
to  maintain  his  influence  over  him ;  and  this,  of  course, 
renders  all  further  analysis  impossible. 

I  have  told  you  that,  in  the  first  instance,  dreams  need 
only  be  used  as  sources  of  material  for  analysis.  At  the 
beginning  of  an  analysis  it  is  not  only  unncessary,  but  also 
unwise,  to  make  a  so-called  complete  interpretation  of  a 
dream ;  for  it  is  very  difficult  indeed  to  make  a  complete  and 
really  exhaustive  interpretation.  The  interpretations  of  dreams 
that  one  sometimes  reads  in  psychoanalytic  publications  are 
often  one-sided,  and  not  infrequently  contestable  formulations. 

I  include  among  these  certain  one-sided  sexual  reductions  of 
the  Viennese  school.  In  view  of  the  comprehensive  many- 
sidedness  of  the  dream  material  one  must  beware,  above 
all,  of  one-sided  formulations.  The  many-sidedness  of  the 
meaning  of  a  dream,  not  its  singleness  of  meaning,  is  of 
the  utmost  value,  especially  at  the  beginning  of  the  psycho¬ 
analytic  treatment.  Thus,  for  instance,  a  patient  had  the 
following  dream  not  long  after  her  treatment  had  begun  : 

II  She  ivas  in  a  hotel  in  a  strange  city .  Suddenly  a  fire 
broke  out;  and  her  husband  and  her  father,  ivho  were  with 
her,  helped  her  in  the  work  of  saving  others .”  The  patient 


218 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


was  intelligent,  extraordinarily  sceptical,  and  absolutely  con¬ 
vinced  that  dream  analysis  was  nonsense.  I  had  difficulty 
in  inducing  her  to  give  dream  analysis  even  one  trial.  In¬ 
deed,  I  saw  at  once  that  I  could  not  inform  my  patient  of  the 
real  content  of  the  dream  under  these  circumstances,  because 
her  resistances  were  much  too  great.  I  selected  the  fire,  the 
most  conspicuous  occurrence  of  the  dream,  as  the  starting 
point  for  obtaining  her  free  associations.  The  patient  told 
me  that  she  had  recently  read  in  a  newspaper  that  a  certain 
hotel  in  Z.  had  been  burnt  down ;  that  she  remembered  the 
hotel  because  she  had  once  lived  in  it.  At  the  hotel  she  had 
made  the  acquaintance  of  a  man,  and  from  this  acquaintance 
a  somewhat  questionable  love  affair  developed.  In  connection 
with  this  story  the  fact  came  out  that  she  had  already  had 
quite  a  number  of  similar  adventures,  all  of  which  had  a 
certain  frivolous  character.  This  important  bit  of  past 
history  was  brought  out  by  the  first  free  association  with 
a  dream  part.  It  would  have  been  impossible  in  this  case 
to  make  clear  to  the  patient  the  very  striking  meaning  of 
the  dream.  With  her  frivolous  mental  attitude,  of  which  her 
scepticism  was  only  a  special  instance,  she  could  have  calmly 
repelled  any  attempt  of  this  kind.  But  after  the  frivolity  of 
her  mental  attitude  was  recognised  and  proved  to  her,  by 
the  material  that  she  herself  had  furnished,  it  was  possible 
to  analyse  the  dreams  which  followed  much  more  thoroughlj7. 

It  is,  therefore,  advisable  in  the  beginning  to  make  use 
of  dreams  for  the  purpose  of  reaching  the  important  sub¬ 
conscious  material  by  means  of  the  patient’s  free  associations 
in  connection  with  them.  This  is  the  best  and  most  cautious 
method,  especially  for  those  who  are  just  beginning  to 
practise  analysis.  An  arbitrary  translation  of  the  dreams 
is  absolutely  unadvisable.  That  would  be  a  superstitious 
practice  based  on  the  acceptance  of  well-established  symbolic 
meanings.  But  there  are  no  fixed  symbolic  meanings.  There 
are  certain  symbols  that  recur  frequently,  but  we  are  not  able 
to  get  beyond  general  statements.  For  instance,  it  is  quite 
incorrect  to  assume  that  the  snake,  when  it  appears  in  dreams, 
has  a  merely  phallic  meaning;  just  as  incorrect  as  it  is  to 


PSYCHOANALYSIS 


219 


deny  that  it  may  have  a  phallic  meaning  in  some  cases. 
Every  symbol  has  more  than  one  meaning.  I  can  therefore 
not  admit  the  correctness  of  exclusively  sexual  interpretations, 
such  as  appear  in  some  psychoanalytic  publications,  for  my 
experience  has  made  me  regard  them  as  one-sided,  and  there¬ 
fore  insufficient.  As  an  example  of  this  I  will  tell  you  a  very 
simple  dream  of  a  young  patient  of  mine.  It  was  as  follows  : 

11 1  was  going  up  a  flight  of  stairs  with  my  mother  cincl  sistei . 
When  we  reached  the  top  I  was  told  that  my  sister  ivas  soon 
to  have  a  child .” 

I  shall  now  show  you  how,  on  the  strength  of  the  hitherto 
prevailing  point  of  view,  this  dream  may  be  translated  so 
that  it  receives  a  sexual  meaning.  We  know  that  the  incest 
phantasy  plays  a  prominent  part  in  the  life  of  a  neurotic. 
Hence  the  picture  “  with  my  mother  and  sister  ”  might  be 
regarded  as  an  allusion  in  this  direction.  The  stairs  ha\e 
a  sexual  meaning  that  is  supposedly  well  established ;  they 
represent  the  sexual  act,  because  of  the  rhythmic  climbing 
of  steps.  The  child  that  my  patient’s  sister  is  expecting  is 
nothing  but  the  logical  result  of  these  premises.  The  dieam, 
translated  thus,  would  be  a  clear  fulfilment  of  infantile  de¬ 
sires,  which  as  we  know  play  an  important  part  of  Freud  s 
theory  of  dreams. 

Now  I  have  analysed  this  with  the  aid  of  the  following 
process  of  reasoning  :  If  I  say  that  the  stairs  are  a  symbol 
for  the  sexual  act,  whence  do  I  obtain  the  right  to  regard  the 
mother,  the  sister,  and  the  child  as  concrete  ;  that  is,  as  not 
symbolic  ?  If,  on  the  strength  of  the  claim  that  dream  pictures 
are  symbolic,  I  give  to  certain  of^these  pictures  the  value  of 
symbols,  what  right  have  I  to  exempt  certain  other  dream 
parts  from  this  process  ?  If,  therefore,  I  attach  symbolic  value 
to  the  ascent  of  the  stairs,  I  must  also  attach  a  symbolic 
value  to  the  pictures  that  represent  the  mother,  the  sister, 
and  the  child.  Therefore  I  did  not  translate  the  dream,  but 
really  analysed  it.  The  result  was  surprising.  I  will  give 
you  the  free  associations  with  the  separate  dream  parts,  word 
for  word,  so  that  you  can  form  your  own  opinions  concerning 
the  material.  I  should  state  in  advance  that  the  young  man 


220 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


had  finished  his  studies  at  the  university  a  few  months 
previously ;  that  he  found  the  choice  of  a  profession  too 
difficult  to  make ;  and  that  he  thereupon  became  a  neurotic. 
In  consequence  of  this  he  gave  up  his  work.  His  neurosis 
took,  among  other  things,  a  decidedly  homo-sexual  form. 

The  patient’s  associations  with  his  mother  are  as  follows  : 
“  I  have  not  seen  her  for  a  long  time,  a  very  long  time.  I 
really  ought  to  reproach  myself  for  this.  It  is  wrong  of  me 
to  neglect  her  so.”  “  Mother,”  then,  stands  here  for  some¬ 
thing  which  is  neglected  in  an  inexcusable  manner.  I  said 
to  the  patient:  “  What  is  that?”  And  he  replied,  with 
considerable  embarrassment,  “  My  work.” 

With  his  sister  he  associated  as  follows :  “  It  is  years 
since  I  have  seen  her.  I  long  to  see  her  again.  Whenever  I 
think  of  her  I  recall  the  time  when  I  took  leave  of  her.  I 
kissed  her  with  real  affection ;  and  at  that  moment  I  under¬ 
stood  for  the  first  time  what  love  for  a  woman  can  mean.” 
It  is  at  once  clear  to  the  patient  that  his  sister  represents 
“love  for  woman.” 

With  the  stairs  he  has  this  association:  “Climbing  up¬ 
wards  ;  getting  to  the  top  ;  making  a  success  of  life ;  being 
grown  up;  being  great.”  The  child  brings  him  the  ideas: 
“New  born;  a  revival;  a  regeneration;  to  become  a  new 
man.” 

One  only  has  to  hear  this  material  in  order  to  understand 
at  once  that  the  patient’s  dream  is  not  so  much  the  fulfilment 
of  infantile  desires,  as  it  is  the  expression  of  biological  duties 
which  he  has  hitherto  neglected  because  of  his  infantilism. 
Biological  justice,  which  is  inexorable,  sometimes  compels 
the  human  being  to  atone  in  his  dreams  for  the  duties  which 
he  has  neglected  in  real  life. 

This  dream  is  a  typical  example  of  the  prospective  and 
teleological  function  of  dreams  in  general,  a  function  that  has 
been  especially  emphasised  by  my  colleague  Dr.  Maeder.  If 
we  adhered  to  the  one-sidedness  of  sexual  interpretation,  the 
real  meaning  of  the  dream  would  escape  us.  Sexuality  in 
dreams  is,  in  the  first  instance,  a  means  of  expression,  and 
by  no  means  always  the  meaning  and  the  object  of  the  dream. 


PSYCHOANALYSIS 


221 


The  unfolding  of  the  prospective  or  teleological  meaning  of 
dreams  is  of  particular  importance  as  soon  as  analysis  is  so 
far  advanced  that  the  eyes  of  the  patient  are  more  easily 
turned  upon  the  future,  than  upon  his  inner  life  and  upon 
the  past. 

In  connection  with  the  application  of  symbolism,  we  can 
also  learn  from  the  example  furnished  us  by  this  dream, 
that  there  can  be  no  fixed  and  unalterable  dream  symbols, 
but  at  best  a  frequent  repetition  of  fairly  general  meanings. 
So  far  as  the  so-called  sexual  meaning  of  dreams,  in  parti¬ 
cular,  is  concerned,  my  experience  has  led  me  to  lay  down 

the  following  practical  rules  : 

If  dream  analysis  at  the  beginning  of  the  treatment  shows 
that  the  dream  has  an  undoubted  sexual  meaning,  this 
meaning  is  to  be  taken  realistically ;  that  is,  it  is  proved 
thereby  that  the  sexual  problem  itself  must  be  subjected  to 
a  careful  revision.  If,  for  instance,  an  incest  phantasy  is 
clearly  shown  to  be  a  latent  content  of  the  dream,  one  must 
subject  the  patient’s  infantile  relations  towards  his  parents 
and  his  brothers  and  sisters,  as  well  as  his  relations  towards 
other  persons  who  are  fitted  to  play  the  part  of  his  father  or 
mother  in  his  mind,  to  a  careful  examination  on  this  basis. 
But  if  a  dream  that  comes  in  a  later  stage  of  the  analysis 
has,  let  us  say,  an  incest  phantasy  as  its  essential  content, 
a  phantasy  that  we  have  reason  to  consider  disposed  of, 
concrete  value  must  not  be  attached  to  it  under  all  circum¬ 
stances  ;  it  must  be  regarded  as  symbolic.  In  this  case 
symbolic  value,  not  concrete  value,  must  be  attached  to  the 
sexual  phantasy.  If  we  did  not  go  beyond  the  concrete 
value  in  this  case,  we  should  keep  reducing  the  patient  to 
sexuality,  and  this  would  arrest  the  progress  of  the  develop¬ 
ment  of  his  personality.  The  patient’s  salvation  is  not  to  be 
found  by  thrusting  him  back  again  into  primitive  sexuality ; 
this  would  leave  him  on  a  low  plane  of  civilisation  whence 
he  could  never  obtain  freedom  and  complete  restoration  to 
health.  Retrogression  to  a  state  of  barbarism  is  no  advantage 

at  all  for  a  civilised  human  being. 

The  above-mentioned  formula,  according  to  which  the 


222 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


sexuality  of  a  dream  is  a  symbolic  or  analogous  expression, 
naturally  also  holds  good  in  the  case  of  dreams  occurring  in 
the  beginning  of  an  analysis.  But  the  practical  reasons  that 
have  induced  us  not  to  take  into  consideration  the  symbolic 
value  of  this  sexual  phantasy,  owe  their  existence  to  the  fact 
that  a  genuine  realistic  value  must  be  given  to  the  abnormal 
sexual  phantasies  of  a  neurotic,  in  so  far  as  the  latter  suffers 
himself  to  be  influenced  in  his  actions  by  these  phantasies. 
Expei ience  teaches  us  that  these  phantasies  not  only  hinder 
him  from  adapting  himself  suitably  to  his  situation,  but  that 
they  also  lead  him  to  all  manner  of  really  sexual  acts,  and 
occasionally  even  to  incest.  Under  these  circumstances,  it 
would  be  of  little  use  to  consider  the  symbolic  content  of  the 
dream  only ;  the  concrete  content  must  first  be  disposed  of. 

These  arguments  are  based  upon  a  different  conception 
of  the  dream  from  that  put  forward  by  Freud  ;  for,  indeed, 
my  experience  has  forced  me  to  a  different  conception. 
According  to  Freud,  the  dream  is  in  its  essence  a  symbolic 
veil  for  repressed  desires,  which  are  in  conflict  with  the 
ideals  of  the  personality.  I  am  obliged  to  regard  the  dream 
structure  from  a  different  point  of  view.  The  dream  for  me 
is,  in  the  first  instance,  the  subliminal  picture  of  the  psycho¬ 
logical  condition  of  the  individual  in  his  waking  state.  It 
presents  a  resume  of  the  subliminal  association  material 
which  is  brought  together  by  the  momentary  psychological 
situation.  The  volitional  meaning  of  the  dream,  which 
Freud  calls  the  repressed  desire,  is,  for  me,  essentially  a 
means  of  expression.  The  activity  of  the  consciousness, 
speaking  biologically,  represents  the  psychological  effort 
which  the  individual  makes  in  adapting  himself  to  the  con¬ 
ditions  of  life.  His  consciousness  endeavours  to  adjust  itself 
to  the  necessities  of  the  moment,  or,  to  put  it  differently : 
there  are  tasks  ahead  of  the  individual,  which  he  must 
overcome.  In  many  cases  the  solution  is  unknown ;  and 
for  this  reason  the  consciousness  always  tries  to  find  the 
solution  by  the  way  of  analogous  experience.  We  always 
try  to  grasp  what  is  unknown  and  in  the  future,  according 
to  our  mental  understanding  of  what  has  gone  before.  Now 


PSYCHOANALYSIS 


223 


we  have  no  reasons  for  assuming  that  the  unconscious 
follows  other  laws  than  those  which  apply  to  conscious 
thought.  The  unconscious,  like  the  conscious,  gathers 
itself  about  the  biological  problems  and  endeavours  to  find 
solutions  for  these  by  analogy  with  what  has  gone  before, 
just  as  much  as  the  conscious  does.  Whenever  we  wish  to 
assimilate  something  that  is  unknown,  we  arrive  at  it  by  a 
process  of  comparison.  A  simple  example  of  this  is  the 
well-known  fact  that,  when  America  was  discovered  by  the 
Spaniards,  the  Indians  took  the  horses  of  the  conquerors, 
which  were  strange  to  them,  for  large  pigs,  because  pigs 
were  familiar  to  their  experience.  This  is  the  mental  process 
which  we  always  employ  in  recognising  unknown  things ; 
and  this  is  the  essential  reason  for  the  existence  of  symbolism. 
It  is  a  process  of  comprehension  by  means  of  analogy.  The 
apparently  repressed  desires,  contained  in  the  dream,  are 
volitional  tendencies  which  serve  as  language-material  for 
subconscious  expression.  So  far  as  this  particular  point  is 
concerned,  I  am  in  full  accord  with  the  views  of  Adler,  another 
member  of  Freud’s  school.  With  reference  to  the  fact  that 
subconscious  materials  of  expression  are  volitional  elements, 
or  tendencies,  I  may  say  that  this  is  dependent  upon  the 
archaic  nature  of  dream  thinking,  a  problem  with  which  I 
have  already  dealt  in  previous  researches.1 

Owing  to  our  different  conception  of  the  structure  of  the 
dream,  the  further  course  of  analysis  also  gains  a  different 
complexion  from  that  which  it  had  until  now.  The  symbolic 
valuation  given  to  sexual  phantasies  in  the  later  stages  of 
analysis  necessarily  leads  less  to  the  reduction  of  the  patient  s 
personality  into  primitive  tendencies,  than  to  the  extension 
and  further  development  of  his  mental  attitude  ;  that  is,  it 
tends  to  make  his  thinking  richer  and  deeper,  thus  giving 
him  what  has  always  been  one  of  the  most  powerful  weapons 
that  a  human  being  can  have  in  his  struggle  to  adapt  himself 
to  life.  By  following  this  new  course  logically,  I  have  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  these  religious  and  philosophical 
motive  forces — the  so-called  metaphysical  needs  of  the  human 

1  See  “  Psychology  of  the  Unconscious,”  Jung. 


224 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


being — must  receive  positive  consideration  at  the  bands  of 
the  analyst.  Though  he  must  not  destroy  the  motive  forces 
that  underlie  them,  by  reducing  them  to  their  primitive, 
sexual  roots,  he  must  make  them  serve  biological  ends  as 
psychologically  valuable  factors.  Thus  these  instincts  assume 
once  more  those  functions  that  have  been  theirs  from  time 
immemorial. 

Just  as  primitive  man  was  able,  with  the  aid  of  religious 
and  philosophical  symbol,  to  free  himself  from  his  original 
state,  so,  too,  the  neurotic  can  shake  off  his  illness  in  a 
similar  way.  It  is  hardly  necessary  for  me  to  say,  that  I  do 
not  mean  by  this,  that  the  belief  in  a  religious  or  philosophical 
dogma  should  be  thrust  upon  the  patient ;  I  mean  simply 
that  he  has  to  reassume  that  psychological  attitude  which, 
in  an  earlier  civilisation,  was  characterised  by  the  living 
belief  in  a  religious  or  philosophical  dogma.  But  the 
religious-philosophical  attitude  does  not  necessarily  corre¬ 
spond  to  the  belief  in  a  dogma.  A  dogma  is  a  transitory 
intellectual  formulation;  it  is  the  result  of  the  religious- 
philosophical  attitude,  and  is  dependent  upon  time  and 
circumstances.  This  attitude  is  itself  an  achievement  of 
civilization;  it  is  a  function  that  is  exceedingly  valuable 
from  a  biological  point  of  view,  for  it  gives  rise  to  the 
incentives  that  force  human  beings  to  do  creative  work  for 
the  benefit  of  a  future  age,  and,  if  necessary,  to  sacrifice 
themselves  for  the  welfare  of  the  species. 

Thus  the  human  being  attains  the  same  sense  of  unity 
and  totality,  the  same  confidence,  the  same  capacity  for  self- 
sacrifice  in  his  conscious  existence  that  belongs  unconsciously 
and  instinctively  to  wild  animals.  Every  reduction,  every 
digression  from  the  course  that  has  been  laid  down  for  the 
development  of  civilisation  does  nothing  more  than  turn  the 
human  being  into  a  crippled  animal;  it  never  makes  a  so- 
called  natural  man  of  him.  My  numerous  successes  and 
failures  in  the  course  of  my  analytic  practice  have  convinced 
me  of  the  invariable  correctness  of  this  psychological  orienta¬ 
tion.  We  do  not  help  the  neurotic  patient  by  freeing  him 
from  the  demand  made  by  civilisation  ;  we  can  only  help  him 


PSYCHOANALYSIS 


225 


by  inducing  him  to  take  an  active  part  in  the  strenuous  task 
of  carrying  on  the  development  of  civilisation.  The  suffering 
which  he  undergoes  in  performing  this  duty  takes  the  place 
of  his  neurosis.  But,  whereas  the  neurosis  and  the  com¬ 
plaints  that  accompany  it  are  never  followed  by  the  delicious 
feeling  of  good  work  well  done,  of  duty  fearlessly  performed, 
the  suffering  that  comes  from  useful  work,  and  from  victory 
over  real  difficulties,  brings  with  it  those  moments  of  peace 
and  satisfaction  which  give  the  human  being  the  priceless 
feeling  that  he  has  really  lived  his  life. 


15 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ON  PSYCHOANALYSIS1 


After  many  years’  experience  I  now  know  that  it  is  ex¬ 
tremely  difficult  to  discuss  psychoanalysis  at  public  meetings 
and  at  congresses.  There  are  so  many  misconceptions 
of  the  matter,  so  many  prejudices  against  certain  psycho¬ 
analytic  views,  that  it  becomes  an  almost  impossible  task  to 
reach  mutual  understanding  in  public  discussion.  I  have 
always  found  a  quiet  conversation  on  the  subject  much  more 
useful  and  fruitful  than  heated  discussions  coram  publico. 
However,  having  been  honoured  by  an  invitation  from  the 
Committee  of  this  Congress  as  a  representative  of  the  psycho¬ 
analytic  movement,  I  will  do  my  best  to  discuss  some  of  the 
fundamental  theoretical  conceptions  of  psychoanalysis.  I 
must  limit  myself  to  this  part  of  the  subject  because  I  am 
quite  unable  to  place  before  my  audience  all  that  psycho¬ 
analysis  means  and  strives  for,  all  its  various  applications, 
its  psychology,  its  theoretical  tendencies,  its  importance  for 
the  realm  of  the  so-called  “  Geisteswissenschaften,”  e.g. 
Mythology,  Comparative  Religion,  Philosophy,  &c.  But  if  I 
am  to  discuss  certain  theoretical  problems  fundamental  to 
psychoanalysis,  I  must  presuppose  my  audience  to  he  well 
acquainted  with  the  development  and  main  results  of  psycho¬ 
analytic  researches.  Unfortunately,  it  often  happens  that 
people  believe  themselves  entitled  to  judge  psychoanalysis 
who  have  not  even  read  the  literature.  It  is  my  firm  con¬ 
viction  that  no  one  is  competent  to  form  a  judgment  concern¬ 
ing  the  subject  until  he  has  studied  the  fundamental  works 
on  psychoanalysis. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  Freud’s  theory  of  neurosis  has 
been  worked  out  in  great  detail,  it  cannot  be  said  to  be,  on  the 
whole,  very  clear  or  easily  accessible.  This  justifies  my  giving 

i  Paper  given  before  tbe  17 tb  International  Medical  Congress,  London,  1913. 


ON  PSYCHOANALYSIS 


227 


you  a  very  short  abstract  of  his  fundamental  views  concerning 
the  theory  of  neurosis. 

You  are  aware  that  the  original  theory  that  hysteria  and 
the  related  neuroses  take  their  origin  in  a  trauma  or  shock  of 
sexual  character  in  early  childhood,  was  given  up  about  fifteen 
years  ago.  It  soon  became  obvious  that  the  sexual  trauma 
could  not  be  the  real  cause  of  a  neurosis,  since  this  is  found 
so  universally ;  there  is  scarcely  a  human  being  who  has  not 
had  some  sexual  shock  in  early  youth,  and  yet  compara¬ 
tively  few  have  incurred  a  neurosis  in  later  life.  Freud 
himself  soon  became  aware  that  several  of  the  patients  who 
related  an  early  traumatic  event,  had  only  invented  the 
story  of  a  so-called  trauma;  it  had  never  taken  place  in 
reality,  and  was  a  mere  creation  of  phantasy.  Moreover, 
on  further  investigation  it  became  quite  obvious  that  even 
a  trauma  which  had  actually  occurred  was  not  always  re¬ 
sponsible  for  the  whole  of  the  neurosis,  although  it  does 
sometimes  look  as  if  the  structure  of  the  neurosis  depended 
entirely  upon  the  trauma.  If  a  neurosis  were  the  inevitable 
consequence  of  a  trauma  it  would  be  quite  incomprehensible 
why  neurotics  are  not  incomparably  more  numerous. 

This  apparently  heightened  shock-effect  was  clearly  based 
upon  the  exaggerated  and  morbid  phantasy  of  the  patient.  Freud 
also  saw  that  this  same  phantasy  manifested  itself  in  relatively 
early  bad  habits,  which  he  called  infantile  perversities.  His 
new  conception  of  the  aetiology  of  a  neurosis  was  based  upon 
this  further  understanding  and  traced  the  neurosis  back  to 
some  sexual  activity  in  early  infancy ;  this  conception  led  on 
to  his  recent  view  that  the  neurotic  is  “  fixed  ”  to  a  certain 
period  of  his  early  infancy,  because  he  still  seems  to  preserve 
some  trace  of  it,  direct  or  indirect,  in  his  mental  attitude. 
Freud  also  makes  the  attempt  to  classify  or  to  differentiate 
the  neuroses,  including  dementia  praecox,  according  to  the 
stage  of  the  infantile  development  in  which  the  fixation  took 
place. 

From  the  standpoint  of  this  theory,  the  neurotic  appears 
to  be  entirely  dependent  upon  his  infantile  past,  and  all  his 
troubles  in  later  life,  his  moral  conflicts,  and  deficiencies,  seem 


228 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


to  be  derived  from  the  powerful  influence  of  that  period.  The 
therapy  and  its  main  preoccupation  are  in  full  accord  with 
this  view,  and  are  chiefly  concerned  with  the  unravelling  of 
this  infantile  fixation,  which  is  understood  as  an  unconscious 
attachment  of  the  sexual  libido  to  certain  infantile  phantasies 
and  habits. 

This  is,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  the  essence  of  Freud’s  theory. 
But  this  conception  neglects  the  following  important  question  : 
What  is  the  cause  of  this  fixation  of  the  libido  to  the  old 
infantile  phantasies  and  habits  ?  We  have  to  remember  that 
almost  every  one  has  at  some  time  had  infantile  phantasies  and 
habits  exactly  corresponding  to  those  of  a  neurotic,  but  they  do 
not  become  fixed  to  them  ;  consequently,  they  do  not  become 
neurotic  later  on.  The  aetiological  secret  of  the  neurosis, 
therefore,  does  not  consist  in  the  mere  existence  of  infantile 
phantasies,  but  lies  in  the  so-called  fixation.  The  manifold 
statements  of  the  existence  of  infantile  sexual  phantasies  in 
neurotic  cases  are  worthless,  in  so  far  as  they  attribute  an 
aetiological  value  to  them,  for  the  same  phantasies  can 
be  found  in  normal  individuals  as  well,  a  fact  which  I 
have  often  proved  personally.  It  is  only  the  fixation  which 
seems  to  be  characteristic.  It  is  important  to  demand  the 
nature  of  the  proofs  of  the  real  existence  of  this  infantile 
fixation.  Freud,  an  absolutely  sincere  and  thorough  em¬ 
piricist,  would  never  have  evolved  this  hypothesis  had 
he  not  had  sufficient  grounds  for  it.  The  grounds  are 
found  in  the  results  of  the  psychoanalytic  investigations  of 
the  unconscious.  Psychoanalysis  discloses  the  unconscious 
existence  of  manifold  phantasies,  which  have  their  end 
root  in  the  infantile  past  and  turn  around  the  so-called 
“  Kern- complex,”  or  nucleus-complex,  which  may  be  desig¬ 
nated  in  male  individuals  as  the  (Edipus-complex  and  in 
females  as  the  Electra-complex.  These  terms  convey  their 
own  meaning  exactly.  The  whole  tragic  fate  of  (Edipus  and 
Electra  took  place  within  the  narrow  confines  of  the  family, 
just  as  the  child’s  fate  lies  wholly  within  the  family  boundaries. 
Hence  the  (Edipus  conflict  is  very  characteristic  of  an  in¬ 
fantile  conflict,  so  also  is  the  Electra  conflict.  The  existence 


ON  PSYCHOANALYSIS 


2-29 


of  these  conflicts  in  infancy  is  largely  proven  by  means  of 
psychoanalytic  experience.  It  is  in  the  realm  of  this  complex 
that  the  fixation  is  supposed  to  have  taken  place.  Through 
the  highly  potent  and  effective  existence  of  the  nucleus- 
complex  in  the  unconscious  of  neurotics,  Freud  was  led  to 
the  hypothesis,  that  the  neurotic  has  a  peculiar  fixation  or 
attachment  to  it.  Not  the  mere  existence  of  this  complex — for 
everybody  has  it  in  the  unconscious — but  the  very  strong 
attachment  to  it  is  what  is  typical  of  the  neurotic.  He  is  far 
more  influenced  by  this  complex  than  the  normal  person; 
many  examples  in  confirmation  of  this  statement  will  be 
found  in  every  one  of  the  recent  psychoanalytic  histories  of 
neurotic  cases. 

We  must  admit  that  this  conception  is  a  very  plausible 
one,  because  the  hypothesis  of  fixation  is  based  upon  the 
well-known  fact,  that  certain  periods  of  human  life,  and  par¬ 
ticularly  infancy,  do  sometimes  leave  determining  traces  for 
ever.  The  only  question  is,  whether  this  principle  is  a 
sufficient  explanation  or  not.  If  we  examine  persons  who 
have  been  neurotic  from  infancy  it  seems  to  be  confirmed, 
for  we  see  the  nucleus-complex  as  a  permanent  and  powerful 
activity  throughout  the  whole  life.  But  if  we  take  cases 
which  never  show  any  considerable  traces  of  neurosis  except 
at  the  particular  time  when  they  break  down,  and  there  are 
many  such,  this  principle  becomes  doubtful.  If  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  fixation,  it  is  not  permissible  to  base  upon  it 
a  new  hypothesis,  claiming  that  at  times  during  certain 
epochs  of  life  the  fixation  becomes  loosened  and  ineffective, 
while  at  others  it  suddenly  becomes  strengthened  and  effective 
In  such  cases  we  find  the  nucleus-complex  as  active  and  as 
potent  as  in  those  which  apparently  support  the  theory  of 
fixation.  Here  a  critical  attitude  is  peculiarly  justifiable,  when 
we  consider  the  often-repeated  observation  that  the  moment 
of  the  outbreak  of  the  disease  is  by  no  means  indifferent ;  as 
a  rule  it  is  most  critical.  It  usually  occurs  at  the  moment 
when  a  new  psychological  adjustment ,  that  is,  a  new  adaptation, 
is  demanded .  Such  moments  facilitate  the  outbreak  of  a 
neurosis,  as  every  experienced  neurologist  knows.  This  fact 


230 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


seems  to  me  extremely  significant.  If  the  fixation  were  iudeed 
real  we  should  expect  to  find  its  influence  constant,  i.e.  a 
neurosis  continuous  throughout  life.  This  is  obviously  not  the 
case.  The  psychological  determination  of  a  neurosis  is  only 
partially  due  to  an  early  infantile  predisposition ;  it  is  due  to 
a  certain  actual  cause  as  well.  And  if  we  carefully  examine 
the  kind  of  infantile  phantasies  and  events  to  which  the  neurotic 
individual  is  attached,  we  shall  be  obliged  to  agree  that  there 
is  nothing  in  them  specific  for  neurosis.  Normal  individuals 
have  pretty  much  the  same  kind  of  internal  and  external  ex¬ 
periences,  and  are  attached  to  them  to  an  even  astonishing 
degree,  without  developing  a  neurosis.  You  will  find  primitive 
people  especially,  very  much  bound  to  their  infantility.  It 
now  begins  to  look  as  if  this  so-called  fixation  were  a  normal 
phenomenon,  and  that  the  importance  of  infancy  for  the 
later  mental  attitude  is  natural  and  prevails  everywhere.  The 
fact  that  the  neurotic  seems  to  be  markedly  influenced  by  his 
infantile  conflicts,  shows  that  it  is  less  a  matter  of  fixation 
than  of  a  peculiar  use  which  he  makes  of  his  infantile  past. 
It  looks  as  if  he  exaggerated  its  importance,  and  attributed 
a  very  great  artificial  value  to  it  (Adler,  a  pupil  of  Freud’s, 
expresses  a  very  similar  view).  It  would  be  unjust  to  say 
that  Freud  confined  himself  to  the  hypothesis  of  fixation  ;  he 
also  was  conscious  of  the  impression  I  have  just  discussed. 
He  called  this  phenomenon  of  reactivation  or  secondary  ex¬ 
aggeration  of  infantile  reminiscences  “regression.”  But  in 
Freud’s  conception  it  appears  as  if  the  incestuous  desires  of 
the  (Edipus-complex  were  the  real  cause  of  the  regression  to 
infantile  phantasies.  If  this  were  the  case,  we  should  have 
to  postulate  an  unexpected  intensity  of  the  primary  inces¬ 
tuous  tendencies.  This  view  led  Freud  to  his  recent  com¬ 
parison  between  the  so-called  psychological  “  incest-barrier  ” 
in  children  and  the  “  incest-taboo  ”  in  primitive  man.  He 
supposes  that  a  real  incestuous  desire  has  led  the  primitive 
man  to  the  invention  of  a  protective  law ;  while  to  me  it  looks 
as  if  the  incest-taboo  is  one  among  numerous  taboos  of  all 
sorts,  and  due  to  the  typical  superstitious  fear  of  primi¬ 
tive  man,  a  fear  existing  independently  of  incest  and  its 


ON  PSYCHOANALYSIS 


231 


interdiction.  I  am  able  to  attribute  as  little  particular 
strength  to  incestuous  desires  in  childhood  as  in  primitive 
humanity.  I  do  not  even  seek  the  reason  for  regression  in 
primary  incestuous  or  any  other  sexual  desires.  I  must  state 
that  a  purely  sexual  aetiology  of  neurosis  seems  to  me  much 
too  narrow.  I  base  this  criticism  upon  no  prejudice  against 
sexuality,  but  upon  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  whole 
problem. 

Therefore  I  suggest  that  the  psychoanalytic  theory  should 
be  liberated  from  the  purely  sexual  standpoint.  In  place  of 
it  I  should  like  to  introduce  an  energic  view-point  into  the 
psychology  of  neurosis. 

All  psychological  phenomena  can  be  considered  as  mani¬ 
festations  of  energy,  in  the  same  way  as  all  physical  pheno¬ 
mena  are  already  understood  as  energic  manifestations 
since  Robert  Mayer  discovered  the  law  of  the  conservation 
of  energy.  This  energy  is  subjectively  and  psychologically 
conceived  as  desire .  I  call  it  libido ,  using  the  word  in  the 
original  meaning  of  this  term,  which  is  by  no  means  only 
sexual.  Sallustius  applies  the  term  exactly  in  the  way  we  do 
here :  “  Magis  in  armis  et  militaribus  equisf  quam  in  scortis  et 
conviviis  libidinem  habebantT 

From  a  broader  standpoint  libido  can  be  understood  as 
vital  energy  in  general,  or  as  Bergson’s  elan  vital.  The  first 
manifestation  of  this  energy  in  the  suckling  is  the  instinct  of 
nutrition.  From  this  stage  the  libido  slowly  develops  through 
manifold  varieties  of  the  act  of  sucking  into  the  sexual  function. 
Hence  I  do  not  consider  the  act  of  sucking  as  a  sexual  act. 
The  pleasure  in  sucking  can  certainly  not  be  considered  as 
sexual  pleasure,  but  as  pleasure  in  nutrition,  for  it  is  nowhere 
proved  that  pleasure  is  sexual  in  itself.  This  process  of 
development  continues  into  adult  life  and  is  connected  with 
a  constantly  increased  adaptation  to  the  external  world. 
Whenever  the  libido,  in  the  process  of  adaptation,  meets  an 
obstacle,  an  accumulation  takes  place  which  normally  gives 
rise  to  an  increased  effort  to  overcome  the  obstacle.  But  if 
the  obstacle  seems  to  be  insurmountable,  and  the  individual 
renounces  the  overcoming  of  it,  the  stored-up  libido  makes  a 


232 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


regression.  In  place  of  being  employed  in  the  increased 
effort,  the  libido  now  gives  up  the  present  task  and  returns 
to  a  former  and  more  primitive  way  of  adaptation.  We  meet 
with  the  best  examples  of  such  regressions  very  frequently  in 
hysterical  cases  where  a  disappointment  in  love  or  marriage 
gives  rise  to  the  neurosis.  There  we  find  the  well-known  dis¬ 
turbances  of  nutrition,  resistance  against  eating,  dyspeptic 
symptoms  of  all  sorts,  etc.  In  these  cases  the  regressive 
libido,  turning  away  from  its  application  to  the  work  of 
adaptation,  holds  sway  over  the  function  of  nutrition  and 
provokes  considerable  disturbance.  Such  cases  are  obvious 
examples  of  regression.  Similar  effects  of  regression  are  to  be 
found  in  cases  where  there  are  no  troubles  in  the  function  of 
nutrition,  and  here  we  readily  find  a  regressive  revival  of 
reminiscences  of  a  time  long  past.  We  find  a  revival  of  the 
images  of  the  parents,  of  the  (Edipus-complex.  Here  things 
and  events  of  infancy — never  before  important — suddenly 
become  so.  They  are  regressively  reanimated.  Take  away 
the  obstacle  in  the  path  of  life  and  this  whole  system  of 
infantile  phantasies  at  once  breaks  down  and  becomes  again 
as  inactive  and  as  ineffective  as  before.  But  do  not  let  us 
forget  that,  to  a  certain  extent,  it  is  at  work  influencing  us 
always  and  everywhere.  I  cannot  forbear  to  mention  that 
this  view  comes  very  near  Janet’s  hypothesis  of  the  substi¬ 
tution  of  the  “  parties  superieures  ”  of  a  function  by  its 
“  parties  inferieures.”  I  would  also  remind  you  of  Claparede’s 
conception  of  neurotic  symptoms  as  emotional  reflexes  of  a 
primitive  nature. 

Therefore  I  no  longer  find  the  cause  of  a  neurosis  in  the 
past,  but  in  the  present.  I  ask  what  the  necessary  task  is, 
which  the  patient  will  not  accomplish.  The  whole  list  of  his 
infantile  phantasies  does  not  give  me  any  sufficient  setiological 
explanation,  because  I  know  that  these  phantasies  are  only 
puffed  up  by  the  regressive  libido,  which  has  not  found 
its  natural  outlet  into  a  new  form  of  adjustment  to  the  demands 
of  life. 

You  may  ask  why  the  neurotic  has  a  special  inclination  not 
to  accomplish  Ins  necessary  tasks.  Here  let  me  point  out 


ON  PSYCHOANALYSIS 


283 


that  no  living  being  adjusts  itself  easily  and  smoothly  to  new 
conditions.  The  principle  of  the  minimum  of  effort  (“  Prinzip 
des  kleinsten  Kraftmasses  ”)  is  valid  everywhere. 

A  sensitive  and  somewhat  inharmonious  character,  as  a 
neurotic  always  is,  will  meet  special  difficulties  and  perhaps 
more  unusual  tasks  in  life  than  a  normal  individual,  who  as 
a  rule  has  only  to  follow  the  well-established  line  of  an 
ordinary  life.  For  the  neurotic  there  is  no  established  way, 
for  his  aims  and  tasks  are  apt  to  be  of  a  highly  individual 
character.  He  tries  to  follow  the  more  or  less  uncontrolled 
and  half-conscious  way  of  normal  people,  not  fully  realizing 
his  own  critical  and  very  different  nature,  which  imposes  upon 
him  more  effort  than  the  normal  person  is  required  to  exert. 
There  are  neurotics  who  have  shown  their  increased  sensi¬ 
tiveness  and  their  resistance  against  adaptation  in  the  very 
first  weeks  of  life,  in  their  difficulty  in  taking  the  mother’s 
breast,  and  in  their  exaggerated  nervous  reactions,  &c.  For 
this  portion  of  a  neurotic  predisposition  it  will  always  be 
impossible  to  find  a  psychological  aetiology,  for  it  is  anterior 
to  all  psychology.  But  this  predisposition — you  may  call  it 
“  congenital  sensitiveness  ”  or  by  what  name  you  like — is  the 
cause  of  the  first  resistances  against  adaptation.  In  such  case, 
the  way  of  adaptation  being  blocked,  the  biological  energy  we 
call  libido  does  not  find  its  appropriate  outlet  or  activity,  and 
therefore  replaces  an  up-to-date  and  suitable  form  of  adapta¬ 
tion  by  an  abnormal,  or  primitive,  one. 

In  neurosis  we  speak  of  an  infantile  attitude  or  the  pre¬ 
dominance  of  infantile  phantasies  and  desires.  In  so  far  as 
infantile  impressions  and  desires  are  of  obvious  importance 
in  normal  people,  they  are  equally  influential  in  neurosis,  but 
they  have  here  no  setiological  significance,  they  are  reactions 
merely,  being  chiefly  secondary  and  regressive  phenomena. 
It  is  perfectly  true,  as  Freud  states,  that  infantile  phantasies 
determine  the  form  and  further  development  of  neurosis,  but 
this  is  not  aetiology.  Even  when  we  find  perverted  sexual 
phantasies  of  which  we  can  prove  the  existence  in  childhood, 
we  cannot  consider  them  of  setiological  significance.  A  neu¬ 
rosis  is  not  really  originated  by  infantile  sjexual  phantasis, 


284 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


and  the  same  must  be  said  of  the  sexualism  oi  neurotic 
phantasy  in  general.  It  is  not  a  primary  phenomenon,  based 
upon  a  perverted  sexual  disposition,  but  merely  secondary, 
and  a  consequence  of  a  failure  to  apply  the  stored-up  libido 
in  a  suitable  way.  I  realize  that  this  is  a  very  old  view,  but 
this  does  not  prevent  its  being  true.  The  fact  that  the  patient 
himself  very  often  believes  that  this  infantile  phantasy  is  the 
real  cause  of  the  neurosis,  does  not  prove  that  he  is  right  in 
his  belief,  or  that  a  theory  following  the  same  belief  is  right 
either.  It  may  look  as  if  it  were  so,  and  I  must  confess  that 
indeed  very  many  cases  do  have  that  appearance.  At  all 
events,  it  is  perfectly  easy  to  understand  how  Freud  came  to 
this  view.  Every  one  having  any  psychoanalytic  experience 
will  agree  with  me  here. 

To  sum  up  :  I  cannot  see  the  real  aetiology  of  a  neurosis 
in  the  various  manifestations  of  infantile  sexual  development 
and  their  corresponding  phantasies.  The  fact  that  they  are 
exaggerated  and  put  into  the  foreground  in  neurosis  is  a 
consequence  of  the  stored-up  energy  or  libido.  The  psycho¬ 
logical  trouble  in  neurosis,  and  neurosis  itself,  can  be 
considered  as  an  act  of  adaptation  that  has  failed.  This  formu¬ 
lation  might  reconcile  certain  views  of  Janet’s  with  Freud’s 
view,  that  a  neurosis  is — under  a  certain  aspect — an  attempt 
at  self-cure ;  a  view  which  can  be  and  has  been  applied  to 
many  diseases. 

Here  the  question  arises  whether  it  is  still  advisable  to 
bring  to  light  all  the  patient’s  phantasies  by  analysis,  if  we 
now  consider  them  as  of  no  setiological  significance.  Psycho¬ 
analysis  hitherto  has  proceeded  to  the  unravelling  of  these 
phantasies  because  they  were  considered  to  be  aetiologically 
significant.  My  altered  view  concerning  the  theory  of 
neurosis  does  not  change  the  procedure  of  psychoanalysis. 
The  technique  remains  the  same.  We  no  longer  imagine 
we  are  unearthing  the  end-root  of  the  disease,  but  we  have 
to  pull  up  the  sexual  phantasies  because  the  energy  which 
the  patient  needs  for  his  health,  that  is,  for  his  adapta¬ 
tion,  is  attached  to  them.  By  means  of  psychoanalysis 
the  connexion  between  the  conscious  and  the  libido  in  the 


ON  PSYCHOANALYSIS 


285 


unconscious  is  re-established.  Thus  you  restore  this  un¬ 
conscious  libido  to  the  command  of  conscious  intention. 
Only  in  this  way  can  the  formerly  split-off  energy  become 
again  applicable  to  the  accomplishment  of  the  necessary 
tasks  of  life.  Considered  from  this  standpoint,  psycho¬ 
analysis  no  longer  appears  to  be  a  mere  reduction  of  the 
individual  to  his  primitive  sexual  wishes,  but  it  becomes 
clear  that,  if  rightly  understood,  it  is  a  highly  moral  task  of 
immense  educational  value. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ON  SOME  CRUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS 


Correspondence  between  Dr.  Jung  and  Dr.  Loy  appear¬ 
ing  IN  “  PsYCHOTHERAPEUTISCHE  ZEITFRAGEN.”  PUBLISHED 
by  Dr.  Loy,  Sanatorium  L’Abri,  Territet-Montreux, 
Switzerland,  1914. 


I 

From  Dr.  Loy. 

12th  January,  1913. 

What  you  said  at  our  last  conversation  was  extraordinarily 
stimulating.  I  was  expecting  you  to  throw  light  upon  the 
interpretation  of  my  own  and  my  patients’  dreams  from  the 
standpoint  of  Freud’s  “  Interpretation  of  Dreams.”  Instead, 
you  put  before  me  an  entirely  new  conception  :  the  dream  as 
a  means  of  re-establishing  the  moral  equipoise,  fashioned  in 
the  realm  below  the  threshold  of  consciousness.  That  in¬ 
deed  is  a  fruitful  conception.  But  still  more  fruitful  appears 
to  me  your  other  suggestion.  You  regard  the  problems 
of  psychoanalysis  as  much  deeper  than  I  had  ever  thought : 
it  is  no  longer  merely  a  question  of  getting  rid  of  trouble¬ 
some  pathological  symptoms ;  the  analysed  person  gets  to 
understand  not  his  anxiety-experiences  alone,  but  his  whole 
self  most  completely,  and  by  means  of  this  understanding 
he  can  build  up  and  fashion  his  whole  life  anew.  But  he 
himself  must  be  the  builder,  the  Analyst  only  furnishes  him 
with  the  necessary  tools. 

To  begin  with,  I  would  ask  you  to  consider  what  justifi¬ 
cation  there  is  for  the  original  procedure  of  Breuer  and 
Freud,  now  entirely  given  up  both  by  Freud  himself  and  by 
you,  but  practised  by  Frank,  for  instance,  as  his  only 
method  :  I  mean  “  the  abreaction  of  the  inhibited  effects 


SOME  CRUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  287 

under  light  hypnosis.”  Why  have  you  given  up  the  cathartic 
method  ?  More  particularly,  has  light  hypnosis  in  psycho¬ 
catharsis  a  different  value  from  suggestion  during  sleep,  long 
customary  in  treatment  by  suggestion  ?  that  is,  has  it  only 
the  value  which  the  suggestionist  contributes,  or  does  it 
claim  to  possess  only  the  value  which  the  patient’s  belief 
bestows  upon  it?  To  put  it  another  way,  is  suggestion 
in  the  waking-state  equivalent  to  suggestion  in  hypnoidal 
states,  as  Bernheim  now  asserts,  after  having  used  sug¬ 
gestion  for  many  years  exclusively  in  hypnosis  ?  You  will 
tell  me  we  must  talk  of  psychoanalysis,  not  of  suggestion. 
But  I  really  mean  this  :  is  not  the  suggestion ,  by  means  of 
which  the  psychocatharsis  in  the  hypnoidal  state  produces 
therapeutic  effects,  (modified  naturally,  by  the  patients’  age, 
etc.)  the  main  factor  in  the  therapeutic  success  of  the  psycho¬ 
catharsis?  Frank,  in  his  “ Affehtstor ungen says:  “these 
partial  adjustments  of  effect,  suggestibility  and  suggestion, 
are  almost  altogether  omitted  in  the  psychocathartic  treat¬ 
ment  in  light  sleep,  in  so  far  as  the  content  of  the  reproduced 
presentations  is  concerned.”  Is  that  really  true?  Frank 
himself  adds :  “  How  can  meditation  upon  the  dreams  of 

youth  in  itself  lead  to  the  discharge  of  the  stored-up  anxiety, 
whether  in  hypnoidal  states  or  under  any  other  conditions  ? 
Must  one  not  suppose,  with  much  greater  probability,  that 
the  anxiety-states  would  become  more  pronounced  through 
such  concentration  upon  them?”  [I  have  noticed  that  my¬ 
self,  and  much  more  than  I  at  all  liked.]  One  does  indeed 
say  to  the  patient :  “  First  we  must  stir  up,  then  after¬ 
wards  comes  peace.”  And  it  does  come.  But  does  it  not 
come  in  spite  of  the  stirring-up  process ,  because  gradually,  by 
means  of  frequent  talks  under  light  hypnosis,  the  patient 
gets  such  confidence  in  the  doctor  that  he  becomes  suscep¬ 
tible  to  direct  suggestion,  and  that  produces  at  first  improve¬ 
ment  and  finally,  cure  ?  I  go  still  further  :  in  an  analysis 
in  the  waking-state ,  is  not  the  patient’s  belief  that  the  method 
employed  will  cure  him,  coupled  with  his  ever-growing  trust  in 
the  doctor,  a  main  cause  of  his  cure?  And  I  ask  even 
further :  in  every  systematically  carried-out  therapeutic 


238 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


treatment,  is  not  faith  in  it,  trust  in  the  doctor,  a  main 
factor  in  its  success  ?  I  will  not  indeed  say  the  only  factor, 
for  one  cannot  deny  that  the  physical,  dietetic  and  chemical 
procedures,  when  properly  selected,  have  a  real  effect  in 
securing  a  cure,  over  and  above  the  obvious  effect  of  their 
indirect  suggestion. 


II 

From  Dr.  Jung. 

28th  January,  1913. 

With  regard  to  your  question  as  to  the  applicability  of  the 
cathartic  method,  the  following  is  my  standpoint :  every 
method  is  good  if  it  serves  its  purpose,  including  every 
method  of  suggestion,  even  Christian  Science,  Mental 
Healing,  etc.  “  A  truth  is  a  truth ,  when  it  works.”  It  is  quite 
another  question  whether  a  scientific  physician  can  answer 
for  it  to  his  conscience  should  he  sell  little  bottles  of  Lourdes- 
water  because  that  suggestion  is  at  times  very  useful.  Even 
the  so-called  highly  scientific  suggestion-therapy  employs 
the  wares  of  the  medicine-man  and  the  exorcising  Schaman. 
And  please,  why  should  it  not  ?  The  public  is  not  even  now 
much  more  advanced  and  continues  to  expect  miracles  from 
the  doctor.  And  truly  those  doctors  should  be  deemed 
clever — worldly-wise  in  every  respect — who  understand  the 
art  of  investing  themselves  with  the  halo  of  the  medicine¬ 
man.  Not  only  have  they  the  biggest  practices — they  have 
also  the  best  results.  This  is  simply  because  countless 
physical  maladies  (leaving  out  of  count  the  neuroses)  are 
complicated  and  burdened  with  psychic  elements  to  an 
extent  scarcely  yet  suspected.  The  medical  exorcist’s  whole 
behaviour  betrays  his  full  valuation  of  the  psychic  element 
when  he  gives  the  patient  the  opportunity  of  fixing  his  faith 
firmly  upon  the  doctor’s  mysterious  personality.  Thus  does  he 
win  the  sick  man’s  mind,  which  henceforth  helps  him  indeed 
to  restore  his  body  also  to  health.  The  cure  works  best 
when  the  doctor  really  believes  in  his  own  formulae,  otherwise 
he  ma}^  be  overcome  by  scientific  doubt  and  so  lose  the  correct, 


SOME  CBUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  239 

convincing  tone.  I,  too,  for  a  time  practised  hypnotic 
suggestion  enthusiastically.  But  there  befell  me  three 
dubious  incidents  which  I  want  you  to  note  : 

1.  Once  there  came  to  me  to  be  hypnotised  for  various 
neurotic  troubles  a  withered  peasant-woman  of  some  fifty 
years  old.  She  was  not  easy  to  hypnotise,  was  very  restless, 
kept  opening  her  eyes — but  at  last  I  did  succeed.  When  I 
waked  her  after  about  half  an  hour  she  seized  my  hand  and 
with  many  words  testified  to  her  overflowing  gratitude.  I 
said :  “  But  you  are  by  no  means  cured  yet,  so  keep  your 
thanks  till  the  end  of  the  treatment.  She .  I  am  not 
thanking  you  for  that,  but— (blushing  and  whispering)— 
because  you  have  been  so  decent."  So  she  said,  looked  at 
me  with  a  sort  of  tender  admiration  and  departed.  I  gazed 
long  at  the  spot  where  she  had  stood — and  asked  myself,  con¬ 
founded,  “  So  decent  ?  ’’—good  heavens  !  surely  she  hadn’t 
imagined,  somehow  or  other.  .  .  .  This  glimpse  made  me 
suspect  for  the  first  time  that  possibly  the  loose-minded 
person,  by  means  of  that  notorious  feminine  (I  should  at 
that  time  have  said  “  animal  ”  )  directness  of  instinct,  under¬ 
stood  more  about  the  essence  of  hypnotism  than  I  with  all 
my  knowledge  of  the  scientific  profundity  of  the  text-books. 

Therein  lay  my  harmlessness. 

2.  Next  came  a  pretty,  coquettish,  seventeen-year-old  gill 
with  a  harassed,  suspicious  mother.  The  young  daughtei  had 
suffered  since  early  girlhood  from  enuresis  nocturna,  which, 
among  other  difficulties,  hindered  her  from  going  to  a 
boarding-school  abroad. 

At  once  I  thought  of  the  old  woman  and  her  wisdom. 
I  tried  to  hypnotise  the  girl;  she  laughed  affectedly  and 
prevented  hypnosis  for  twenty  minutes.  Of  course  I  kept 
quiet  and  thought :  I  know  why  you  laugh ;  you  have  already 
fallen  in  love  with  me,  but  I  will  give  you  proof  of  my 
decency  in  gratitude  for  your  wasting  my  time  with  your 
challenging  laughter.  I  succeeded  in  hypnotising  her. 
Success  followed  at  once.  The  enuresis  stopped,  and  I  there¬ 
fore  informed  the  young  lady  later  that,  instead  of  Wednes¬ 
day,  I  would  not  see  her  again  for  hypnosis  till  the  following 


240 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


Saturday.  On  Saturday  she  arrived  with  a  cross  countenance, 
presaging  failure.  The  enuresis  had  come  back  again.  I 
remembered  my  wise  old  woman,  and  asked  :  “  When  did  the 
enuresis  return  ?  ”  She  (unsuspecting),  “  Wednesday  night.” 
I  thought  to  myself,  There  it  is  again,  she  wants  to  show  me 
that  I  simply  must  see  her  on  Wednesdays  too  ;  not  to  see  me 
for  a  whole  long  week  is  too  much  for  a  tender,  loving  heart. 
But  I  was  quite  resolved  to  give  no  help  to  such  annoying 
romancing,  so  I  said,  “  To  continue  the  hypnosis  would  be 
quite  wrong  under  these  circumstances.  We  must  drop  it 
for  quite  three  weeks,  to  give  the  enuresis  a  chance  to  stop. 
Then  come  again  for  treatment.”  In  my  malicious  heart  I 
knew  I  should  then  be  on  my  holiday  and  so  the  course  of 
hypnotic  treatment  would  come  to  an  end.  After  the  holidays 
my  locum  tenens  told  me  the  young  lady  had  been  there  with 
the  news  that  the  enuresis  had  vanished,  but  her  disappoint¬ 
ment  at  not  seeing  me  was  very  keen.  The  old  woman  was 
right,  thought  I. 

3.  The  third  case  gave  my  joy  in  suggestion  its  death¬ 
blow.  This  was  the  manner  of  it.  She  was  a  lady  of 
sixty-five  who  came  stumbling  into  the  consulting-room  with 
a  crutch.  She  had  suffered  from  pain  in  the  knee-joint  for 
seventeen  years,  and  this  at  times  kept  her  in  bed  for  many 
weeks.  No  doctor  had  been  able  to  cure  her,  and  she  had 
tried  every  possible  remedy  of  present-day  medicine.  After  I 
had  suffered  the  stream  of  her  narrative  to  flow  over  me 
for  some  ten  minutes,  I  said,  “  I  will  try  to  hypnotise  you, 
perhaps  that  will  do  you  good.”  She,  “  Oh  yes,  please  do !  ” 
leaned  her  head  on  one  side  and  fell  asleep  before  ever  I 
said  or  did  anything.  She  passed  into  somnambulism  and 
showed  every  form  of  hypnosis  you  could  possibly  desire. 
After  half  an  hour  I  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  waking 
her ;  when  at  last  she  was  awake  she  jumped  up :  “  I  am 
well,  I  am  all  right,  you  have  cured  me.”  I  tried  to  make 
timid  objections,  but  her  praises  drowned  me.  She  could 
really  walk.  Then  I  blushed  and  said,  embarrassed,  to 
my  colleagues:  “Look!  behold  the  wondrously  successful 
hypnotic  therapy.”  That  day  saw  the  death  of  my  connection 


SOME  CRUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  241 


with  treatment  by  suggestion ;  the  therapeutic  praise  won 
by  this  case  shamed  and  humiliated  me.  When,  a  year 
later,  at  the  beginning  of  my  hypnotic  course,  the  good  old 
lady  returned,  this  time  with  the  pain  in  her  back,  I  was 
already  sunk  in  hopeless  cynicism ;  I  saw  written  on  her 
forehead  that  she  had  just  read  the  notice  of  the  re-opening 
of  my  clinic  in  the  newspaper,  that  vexatious  romanticism 
had  provided  her  with  a  convenient  pain  in  the  back  so  that 
she  might  have  a  pretext  for  seeing  me,  and  again  let  herself 
be  cured  in  the  same  theatrical  fashion.  This  proved  true 
in  every  particular. 

As  you  will  understand,  a  man  possessed  of  scientific  con¬ 
science  cannot  endure  such  cases  without  embarrassment. 
There  ripened  the  resolve  in  me  to  renounce  suggestion  alto¬ 
gether  rather  than  to  allow  myself  passively  to  be  transformed 
into  a  miracle-worker.  I  wanted  to  understand  what  really 
went  on  in  the  souls  of  people.  It  suddenly  seemed  to  me 
incredibly  childish  to  think  of  dispelling  an  illness  with  charms, 
and  that  this  should  be  the  only  result  of  our  scientific 
endeavours  for  a  psychotherapy.  Thus  for  me  the  discovery 
of  Breuer  and  Freud  was  a  veritable  deliverance.  I  took  up 
their  method  with  unalloyed  enthusiasm  and  soon  recognised 
how  right  Freud  was,  when  at  a  very  early  date,  indeed  so 
far  back  as  the  Studien  ueber  Hysterie ,  he  began  to  direct 
a  searchlight  upon  the  accompanying  circumstances  of  the 
so-called  trauma.  I  too  soon  discovered  that  certainly  some 
traumata  with  an  obvious  etiological  tinge  are  opportunely 
present.  But  the  greater  number  appeared  highly  improb¬ 
able.  So  many  of  them  seemed  so  insignificant,  even  so 
normal,  that  at  most  one  could  regard  them  as  just  pro¬ 
viding  the  opportunity  for  the  neurosis  to  appear.  But  what 
especially  spurred  my  criticism  was  the  fact  that  so  many 
traumata  were  simply  inventions  of  phantasy  which  had 
never  really  existed.  This  perception  was  enough  to  make 
me  sceptical  about  the  whole  trauma-theory.  (But  I  have 
dealt  with  these  matters  in  detail  in  my  lectures  on  the 
theory  of  psychoanalysis).1  I  could  no  longer  suppose  that 

1  “  Psychoanalysis.”  Nervous  and  Mental  Disease,  No.  19.  Monograph  series. 

16 


242 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


the  hundred  and  one  cathartic  experiences  of  a  phantastically 
puffed-up  or  entirely  invented  trauma  was  anything  but 
the  effect  of  suggestion.  It  is  well  enough  if  it  helps.  If 
one  only  had  not  a  scientific  conscience  and  that  impulsion 
towards  the  truth !  I  found  in  many  cases,  especially  when 
dealing  with  more  mentally  gifted  patients,  that  I  must 
recognise  the  therapeutic  limitations  of  this  method.  It  is, 
of  course,  a  definite  plan,  and  convenient  for  the  doctor, 
since  it  makes  no  particular  demands  upon  his  intellect  for 
new  adaptations.  The  theory  and  practice  are  both  of  the 
pleasantest  simplicity :  “  The  neurosis  is  caused  by  a  trauma. 
The  trauma  is  abreacted.”  When  the  abreaction  takes  place 
under  hypnotism,  or  with  other  magical  accessories  (dark 
room,  peculiar  lighting,  and  the  rest),  I  remember  once 
more  the  wise  old  woman,  who  opened  my  eyes  not  merely 
to  the  magic  influence  of  the  mesmeric  gestures,  but  also 
to  the  essential  character  of  hypnotism  itself.  But  what 
alienated  me  once  for  all  from  this  relatively  efficacious 
indirect  method  of  suggestion,  based  as  it  is  upon  an 
equally  efficacious  false  theory,  was  the  perception  I  ob¬ 
tained  at  the  same  time  that,  behind  the  confused  deceptive 
intricacies  of  neurotic  phantasies,  there  stands  a  conflict , 
which  may  be  best  described  as  a  moral  one.  With  this 
there  began  for  me  a  new  era  of  understanding.  Besearch 
and  therapy  now  coincided  in  the  attempt  to  discover  the 
causes  and  the  rational  solution  of  this  conflict.  That  is 
what  psychoanalysis  meant  to  me.  Whilst  I  had  been 
getting  this  insight,  Freud  had  built  up  his  sexual  theory  of 
the  neurosis,  and  therewith  had  brought  forward  an  enormous 
number  of  questions  for  discussion,  all  of  which  I  thought 
deserved  the  profoundest  consideration.  Thus  I  have  had 
the  good  fortune  of  co-operating  with  Freud  for  a  long  time, 
and  working  with  him  in  the  investigation  of  the  problem  of 
sexuality  in  neurosis.  You,  perhaps,  know  from  some  of  my 
earlier  work  that  I  was  always  dubious  somewhat  concerning 
the  significance  of  sexuality.1  This  has  now  become  the  exact 
point  where  I  am  no  longer  altogether  of  Freud’s  opinion. 

1  See  Author’s  preface  to  “  The  Psychology  of  Dementia  Praecox.” 


SOME  CRUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  248 


I  have  preferred  to  answer  your  questions  in  rather  non- 
sequent  fashion.  Whatever  is  still  unanswered,  let  me  now 
repeat :  light  hypnosis  and  complete  hypnosis  are  but  varying 
grades  of  intensity  of  unconscious  attraction  towards  the 
hypnotist.  Who  can  here  venture  to  draw  sharp  distinc¬ 
tions  ?  To  a  critical  intelligence  it  is  unthinkable  that 
suggestibility  and  suggestion  can  be  excluded  in  the  cathartic 
method.  They  are  present  everywhere  and  are  universal 
human  attributes,  even  with  Dubois  and  the  psychoanalysts 
who  think  they  work  on  purely  rational  lines.  No  technique , 
no  self-deception  avails  here — the  doctor  works  nolens  volens — 
and  perhaps  primarily— by  means  of  his  personality ,  that 
is  by  suggestion.  In  the  cathartic  treatment,  what  is  of  far 
more  importance  to  the  patient  than  the  conjuring  up  of 
old  phantasies,  is  the  being  so  often  with  the  doctor,  and 
confidence  and  belief  in  him  personally,  and  in  his  method. 
The  belief,  the  self-confidence,  perhaps  also  the  devotion  with 
which  the  doctor  does  his  work,  are  far  more  important  things 
to  the  patient  (imponderabilia  though  they  be)  than  the  recalling 
of  old  traumata.1 

Ultimately  we  shall  some  day  know  from  the  history 
of  medicine  everything  that  has  ever  been  of  service ;  then 
perhaps  at  last  we  may  come  to  the  really  desirable  therapy, 
to  psychotherapy.  Did  not  even  the  old  materia  medica 
of  filth  have  brilliant  cures  ?— cures  which  only  faded  away 
with  the  belief  in  it ! 

Because  I  recognise  that  the  patient  does  attempt  to  lay 
hold  of  the  doctor’s  personality,  in  spite  of  all  possible  rational 
safeguards,  I  have  formulated  the  demand  that  the  psycho¬ 
therapeutist  shall  be  held  just  as  responsible  for  the  cleanness 
of  his  own  hands  as  is  the  surgeon.  I  hold  it  to  be  an 
absolutely  indispensable  preliminary  that  the  psychoanalyst 
should  himself  first  undergo  an  analysis,  for  his  personality 
is  one  of  the  chief  factors  in  the  cure. 

1  Thus  a  patient,  who  had  been  treated  by  a  young  colleague  without 
very  much  result,  once  said  to  me  :  “  Certainly  I  made  great  progress  with 
him,  and  I  am  much  better  than  I  was.  He  tried  to  analyse  my  dreams. 
It’s  true  he  never  understood  them,  but  he  took  so  much  trouble  over  them. 
He  is  really  a  good  doctor.” 


244 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


Patients  read  the  doctor’s  character  intuitively  and  they 
should  find  in  him  a  human  being,  with  faults  indeed,  but  also 
a  man  who  has  striven  at  every  point  to  fulfil  his  on  n  human 
duties  in  the  fullest  sense.  I  think  that  this  is  the  first  healing 
factor.  Many  times  I  have  had  the  opportunity  of  seeing 
that  the  analyst  is  successful  with  his  treatment  just  in  so  far 
as  he  has  succeeded  in  his  own  moral  development.  I  think 
this  answer  will  satisfy  your  question. 

Ill 

From  Dr.  Loy . 

2nd  February,  1913. 

You  answer  several  of  my  questions  in  a  decidedly 
affirmative  sense.  You  take  it  as  proved  that  in  the  cures  by 
the  cathartic  method  the  main  rdle  is  played  by  faith  in  the 
doctor  and  in  his  method,  and  not  by  the  “  abreaction”  of 
real  or  imaginary  traumata.  I  also.  Equally  I  am  at  one 
with  your  view  that  the  cures  of  the  old  materia  medica  of 
filth,  as  well  as  the  Lourdes  cures,  or  those  of  the  Mental 
Healers,  Christian  Scientists  and  Persuasionists,  are  to  be 
attributed  to  faith  in  the  miracle-worker,  rather  than  to  any 
of  the  methods  employed. 

Now  comes  the  ticklish  point :  the  augur  can  remain  an 
augur  so  long  as  he  himself  believes  the  will  of  the  gods  is 
made  manifest  by  the  entrails  of  the  sacrificial  beast.  When 
he  no  longer  believes,  he  has  to  ask  himself :  Shall  I  con¬ 
tinue  to  use  my  augur’s  authority  to  further  the  welfare 
of  the  State,  or  shall  I  make  use  of  my  newer,  and  (I 
hope)  truer  convictions  of  to-day  ?  Both  ways  are  possible. 
The  first  is  called  opportunism ;  the  second  the  pursuit  of 
truth,  and  scientific  honour.  For  a  doctor,  the  fiist  way 
brings  perhaps  therapeutic  success  and  fame ;  the  second, 
reproach :  such  a  man  is  not  taken  seriously.  What  I 
esteem  most  highly  in  Freud  and  his  school  is  just  this 
passionate  desire  for  truth.  But  again,  it  is  precisely  here 
that  people  pronounce  a  different  verdict :  “  It  is  impossible 
for  the  busy  practitioner  to  keep  pace  with  the  development 


SOME  CKUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  245 


of  the  views  of  this  investigator  and  his  initiates.”  (Frank, 
“  Affektstorungen  Einleitung.”) 

One  can  easily  disregard  this  little  quip,  but  one  must 
take  more  seriously  one’s  self-criticism.  We  may  have  to  ask 
ourselves  whether,  since  science  is  an  undivided,  ever-flowing 
stream,  we  are  justified  in  relinquishing  on  conscientious 
grounds,  any  method  or  combination  of  methods  by  means 
of  which  we  know  cures  can  be  achieved  ? 

Looking  more  closely  at  the  fundamental  grounds  of 
your  aversion  to  the  use  of  hypnosis  (or  semi-hypnosis,  the 
degree  matters  nothing)  in  treatment  by  suggestion ,  (which  as 
a  matter  of  fact  every  doctor  and  every  therapeutic  method 
makes  use  of  willy-nilly,  no  matter  what  it  is  called) ;  it  is 
clear  that  what  has  disgusted  you  in  hypnotism  is  at  bottom 
nothing  but  the  so-called  “  transference  ”  to  the  doctor,  which 
you,  with  your  unalloyed  psychoanalytic  treatment,  can  get 
rid  of  as  little  as  any  one  else,  for  indeed  it  plays  a 
chief  part  in  the  success  of  the  treatment.  Your  insistence 
that  the  psychoanalyst  must  be  answerable  for  the  cleanness 
of  his  own  hands — (here  I  agree  with  you  unreservedly) — 
— is  an  inevitable  conclusion.  But,  after  all,  does  any¬ 
thing  more  “augurish”  really  cling  to  the  use  made  of 
hypnosis  in  psychotherapeutic  treatment,  than  to  the  quite 
inevitable  use  made  of  the  “  transference  to  the  doctor  ” 
for  therapeutic  ends  ?  In  either  case  we  must  perforce 
“  take  shares  ”  in  faith  as  a  healing  agent.  As  for  the 
feeling  which  the  patient — whether  man  or  woman — enter¬ 
tains  for  the  doctor,  is  there  never  anything  in  the  back¬ 
ground  save  conscious  or  unconscious  sexual  desire?  In 
many  cases  your  view  is  most  certainly  correct ;  more  than 
one  woman  has  been  frank  enough  to  confess  that  the 
beginning  of  hypnosis  was  accompanied  by  voluptuous  plea¬ 
sure.  But  this  is  not  true  in  all  instances — or  how  would 
you  explain  the  underlying  feeling  in  the  hypnotising  of  one 
animal  by  another,  e.g.  snake  and  bird.  Surely  you  can  say 
that  there  the  feeling  of  fear  reigns,  fear  which  is  an  inversion 
of  the  libido,  such  as  comes  upon  the  bride  in  that  hypnoidal 
state  before  she  yields  to  her  husband  wherein  pure  sexual 


246 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


desire  rules,  though  possibly  it  contains  an  element  of  fear. 
However  this  may  be,  from  your  three  cases  I  cannot  draw 
any  ethical  distinction  between  the  “  unconscious  readiness 
towards  the  hypnotist  ”  and  the  “  transference  to  the  doctor  ” 
which  should  avail  to  condemn  a  combination  of  hypnotism 
and  psychoanalysis  as  a  method  of  treatment.  You  will 
ask  why  I  cling  to  the  use  of  hypnotism;  or  rather  of 
hypnoidal  states.  Because  I  think  there  are  cases  that 
can  be  much  more  rapidly  cured  thereby,  than  through  a 
purely  psychoanalytic  treatment.  For  example,  in  no  more 
than  five  or  six  interviews  I  cured  a  fifteen-year-old  girl  who 
had  suffered  from  enuresis  nocturna  from  infancy,  but  was 
otherwise  thoroughly  healthy,  gifted,  and  pre-eminent  at 
school :  she  had  previously  tried  all  sorts  of  treatment 
without  any  result. 

Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  sought  out  the  psychoanalytic 
connexion  between  the  enuresis  and  her  psychosexual  atti¬ 
tude  and  explained  it  to  her,  etc.,  but  I  could  not,  she  had 
only  the  short  Easter  holidays  for  treatment:  so  I  just 
hypnotised  her  and  the  tiresome  trouble  vanished.  It  was  a 
lasting  cure. 

In  psychoanalysis  I  use  hypnosis  to  help  the  patient  to 
overcome  “  resistances.” 

Further,  I  use  light  hypnosis  in  association  with  psycho¬ 
analysis,  to  hasten  the  advance  when  the  “re-education” 
stage  comes. 

For  example,  a  patient  afflicted  with  washing-mania  was 
sent  to  me  after  a  year’s  psychocathartic  treatment  by 
Dr.  X.  The  symbolic  meaning  of  her  washing-ceremonial 
was  first  made  plain  to  her  ;  she  became  more  and  more 
agitated  during  the  “abreaction”  of  alleged  traumata  in 
childhood,  because  she  had  persuaded  herself  by  auto-sug¬ 
gestion  that  she  was  too  old  to  be  cured,  that  she  saw  no 
“  images,”  etc.  So  I  used  hypnosis  to  help  her  to  diminish 
the  number  of  her  washings,  “  so  that  the  anxiety-feeling 
would  be  banished  ” ;  and  to  train  her  to  throw  things  on 
the  ground  and  pick  them  up  again  without  washing  her 
hands  afterwards,  etc. 


SOME  CRUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  247 


In  view  of  these  considerations,  if  you  feel  disposed 
to  go  further  into  the  matter,  I  should  be  grateful  if  you 
would  furnish  me  with  more  convincing  reasons  why  hypnotic 
treatment  must  he  dispensed  with ;  and  explain  how  to  do 
without  it,  or  with  what  to  replace  it  in  such  cases.  Were 
I  convinced,  I  would  give  it  up  as  you  have  done,  but 
what  convinced  you  has,  so  far,  not  convinced  me.  Si  duo 
faciunt  idem ,  non  est  idem. 

Now  I  want  to  consider  another  important  matter  to  which 
you  alluded,  but  only  cursorily,  and  to  put  one  question : 
behind  the  neurotic  phantasies  there  stands,  you  say,  almost 
always  (or  always)  a  moral  conflict  which  belongs  to  the 
present  moment.  That  is  perfectly  clear  to  me.  Research 
and  therapy  coincide ;  their  task  is  to  search  out  the  founda¬ 
tions  and  the  rational  solution  of  the  conflict.  Good.  But 
can  the  rational  solution  always  be  found?  “Reasons  of 
expediency”  so  often  bar  the  way,  varying  with  the  type 
of  patient,  for  instance  children,  young  girls  and  women 
from  “pious”  catholic  or  protestant  families.  Again  that 
accursed  opportunism  !  A  colleague  of  mine  was  perfectly 
right  when  he  began  to  give  sexual  enlightenment  to  a  young 
French  patient,  a  boy  who  was  indulging  in  masturbation. 
Whereupon,  like  one  possessed,  in  rushed  a  bigoted  grand¬ 
mother,  and  a  disagreeable  sequel  ensued.  How  to  act  in 
these  and  similar  cases  ?  What  to  do  in  cases  where  there 
arises  a  moral  conflict  between  love  and  duty  (a  conflict  in 
married  life)  ? — or  in  general  between  instinct  and  moral 
duty  ?  What  to  do  in  the  case  of  a  girl  afflicted  with  hyste¬ 
rical  or  anxiety  symptoms,  needing  love  and  having  no 
chance  to  marry,  either  because  she  cannot  find  a  suitable 
man  or  because,  being  “well-connected,”  she  wants  to 
remain  chaste  ?  Simply  try  to  get  rid  of  the  symptoms 
by  suggestion?  But  that  is  wrong  as  soon  as  one  knows 
of  a  better  way.  How  to  reconcile  these  two  consciences : 
that  of  the  man  who  does  not  want  to  confine  his  fidelity 
to  truth  within  his  own  four  walls ;  and  that  of  the  doctor 
who  must  cure,  or  if  he  dare  not  cure  according  to  his  real 
convictions  (owing  to  opportunist-motives),  must  at  least 


248 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


procure  some  alleviation  ?  We  live  in  the  present,  but  with 
the  ideas  and  ideals  of  the  future.  That  is  our  conflict. 
How  resolve  it  ? 


IV 

From  Dr.  Jung. 

4th  February,  1913. 

You  have  put  me  in  some  perplexity  by  the  questions 
in  your  yesterday’s  letter.  You  have  rightly  grasped  the 
spirit  which  dictated  my  last.  I  am  glad  you,  too,  recognise 
this  spirit.  There  are  not  very  many  who  can  boast  of  such 
tolerance.  I  should  deceive  myself  if  I  regarded  my  stand¬ 
point  as  that  of  a  practical  physician.  First  and  foremost 
I  am  a  scientist ;  naturally  that  gives  me  a  different  outlook 
upon  many  problems.  In  my  last  letter  I  certainly  left  out 
of  count  the  doctor’s  practical  needs,  but  chiefly  that  I  might 
show  you  on  what  grounds  we  might  be  moved  to  relinquish 
hypnotic  therapy.  To  remove  the  first  objection  at  once,  let 
me  say  that  I  did  not  give  up  hypnotism  because  I  desired  to 
avoid  dealing  with  the  basic  motives  of  the  human  soul,  but 
rather  because  I  wanted  to  battle  with  them  directly  and  openly. 
When  once  I  understood  what  kind  of  forces  play  a  part 
in  hypnotism  I  gave  it  up,  simply  to  get  rid  of  all  the  indirect 
advantages  of  this  method.  As  we  psychoanalysts  see  regret¬ 
fully  every  day — and  our  patients  also — ice  do  not  work  with 
the  “  transference  to  the  doctor,  ”  1  hut  against  it  and  in  spite  of  it. 
It  is  just  not  upon  the  faith  of  the  sick  man  that  we  can 
build,  but  upon  his  criticism.  So  much  would  I  say  at  the 
outset  upon  this  delicate  question. 

As  your  letter  shows,  we  are  at  one  in  regard  to  the 
theoretical  aspect  of  treatment  by  suggestion.  So  we  can 
now  apply  ourselves  to  the  further  task  of  coming  to  mutual 
understanding  about  the  practical  question. 

Your  remarks  on  the  physician’s  dilemma — whether  to  be 

1  Defined  in  the  Freudian  sense,  as  the  transference  to  the  doctor  of  infantile 
and  sexual  phantasies.  A  more  advanced  conception  of  the  transference  per¬ 
ceives  in  it  the  important  process  of  emotional  approach  [ EmfUhlung ]  which 
at  first  makes  use  of  infantile  and  sexual  analogies. 


SOME  CEUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  249 


magician  or  scientist — bring  us  to  the  heart  of  the  discussion. 
I  strive  to  he  no  fanatic — although  there  are  not  a  few  who 
reproach  me  with  fanaticism.  I  contend  not  for  the  applica¬ 
tion  of  the  psychoanalytic  method  solely  and  at  all  costs, 
but  for  the  recognition  of  every  method  of  investigation  and 
treatment.  I  was  a  medical  practitioner  quite  long  enough  to 
realise  that  practice  obeys,  and  should  obey,  other  laws  than 
does  the  search  after  truth.  One  might  almost  say  practice 
must  first  and  foremost  submit  to  the  laws  of  opportunism. 
The  scientist  does  great  injustice  to  the  practitioner  if  he 
reproaches  him  for  not  using  the  “  one  true  ”  scientific 
method.  As  I  said  to  you  in  my  last  letter :  “A  truth  is  a 
truth,  when  it  works.”  But  on  the  other  hand,  the  practi¬ 
tioner  must  not  reproach  the  scientist  if  in  his  search  for 
truth  and  for  newer  and  better  methods,  he  makes  trial  of 
unusual  ways.  After  all,  it  is  not  the  practitioner  but  the 
investigator,  and  the  latter’s  patient,  who  will  have  to  bear 
any  injury  that  may  arise.  The  practitioner  must  certainly 
use  those  methods  which  he  knows  how  to  use  to  greatest 
advantage,  and  which  give  him  the  best  relative  results.  My 
tolerance,  indeed,  extends,  as  you  see,  even  to  Christian 
Science.  But  I  deem  it  most  uncalled  for  that  Frank,  a 
practising  doctor,  should  depreciate  research  in  which  he 
cannot  participate,  and  particularly  the  very  line  of  research 
to  which  he  owes  his  own  method.  It  is  surely  time  to  cease 
this  running  down  of  every  new  idea.  No  one  asks  Frank 
and  all  whom  he  represents  to  become  psychoanalysts ;  we 
grant  them  the  right  to  their  existence,  why  should  they  always 
seek  to  cut  ours  short  ? 

As  my  own  “  cures  ”  show  you,  I  do  not  doubt  the  effect 
of  suggestion.  Only  I  had  the  idea  that  I  could  perhaps 
discover  something  still  better.  This  hope  has  been  amply 
justified.  Not  for  ever  shall  it  be  said — 

“  The  good  attained,  is  oft  of  fairer  still 
The  enemy,  calling  it  vain  illusion,  falsehood’s  snare.” 


I  confess  frankly  were  I  doing  your  work  I  should  often  be  in 
difficulties  if  I  relied  only  on  psychoanalysis.  I  can  scarcely 


250 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


imagine  a  general  practice,  especially  in  a  sanatorium,  with 
no  other  means  than  psychoanalysis.  At  Dr.  Bircher’s 
sanatorium  in  Zurich  the  principle  of  psychoanalysis  is 
adopted  completely,  by  several  of  the  assistants,  but  a 
whole  series  of  other  important  educative  influences  are 
also  brought  to  bear  upon  the  patients,  without  which 
matters  would  probably  go  very  badly.  In  my  own  purely 
psychoanalytic  practice  I  have  often  regretted  that  I  could 
not  avail  myself  of  the  other  methods  of  re-education  that 
are  naturally  at  hand  in  an  institution — this,  of  course,  only 
in  special  cases  where  one  is  dealing  with  extremely  un¬ 
controlled,  uneducated  persons.  Which  of  us  has  shown  any 
disposition  to  assert  that  we  have  discovered  a  panacea  ? 
There  are  cases  in  which  psychoanalysis  operates  less  effec¬ 
tively  than  any  other  known  method.  But  who  has  ever 
claimed  psychoanalysis  should  be  employed  in  every  sort  of 
case,  and  on  every  occasion  ?  Only  a  fanatic  could  maintain 
such  a  view.  Patients  for  whom  psychoanalysis  is  suitable 
have  to  be  selected.  I  unhesitatingly  send  cases  I  think 
unsuitable  to  other  doctors.  As  a  matter  of  fact  this  does 
not  happen  often,  because  patients  have  a  way  of  sort¬ 
ing  themselves  out.  Those  who  go  to  an  analyst  usually 
know  quite  well  why  they  go  to  him  and  not  to  some  one 
else.  However,  there  are  very  many  neurotics  well  suited 
for  psychoanalysis.  In  these  matters  every  scheme  must 
be  looked  at  in  due  perspective.  It  is  never  quite  wise  to 
try  to  batter  down  a  stone  wall  with  your  head.  Whether 
simple  hypnotism,  the  cathartic  treatment,  or  psychoanalysis 
shall  be  used,  must  be  determined  by  the  conditions  of  the 
case  and  the  preference  of  the  particular  doctor.  Every 
doctor  will  obtain  the  best  results  with  the  instrument  he 
knows  best. 

But,  barring  exceptions,  I  must  say  definitely  that  for  me 
and  for  my  patients  also ,  psychoanalysis  proves  itself  better  than 
any  other  method.  This  is  not  merely  a  matter  of  feeling ; 
from  manifold  experiences  I  know  many  cases  can  indeed  be 
cured  by  psychoanalysis  which  are  refractory  to  all  other 
methods  of  treatment.  I  have  many  colleagues  whose 


SOME  CRUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  251 


experience  is  the  same,  even  men  engaged  altogether  in 
practice.  It  is  scarcely  to  be  supposed  that  a  method  alto¬ 
gether  contemptible  would  meet  with  so  much  support. 

When  once  psychoanalysis  has  been  applied  in  a  suitable 
case,  it  is  imperative  that  rational  solutions  of  the  conflicts 
should  be  found.  The  objection  is  at  once  advanced  that 
many  conflicts  are  intrinsically  incapable  of  solution.  That 
view  is  sometimes  taken  because  only  an  external  solution 
is  thought  of — and  that,  at  bottom  is  no  real  solution  at  all. 
If  a  man  cannot  get  on  with  his  wife  he  naturally  thinks  the 
conflict  would  be  solved  if  he  were  to  marry  some  one  else. 
If  such  marriages  are  examined  they  are  seen  to  be  no  solu¬ 
tion  whatsoever.  The  old  Adam  enters  upon  the  new  marriage 
and  bungles  it  just  as  badly  as  he  did  the  earlier  one.  A 
real  solution  comes  only  from  within,  ancl  only  then  because  the 
patient  has  been  brought  to  a  new  standpoint . 

Where  an  external  solution  is  possible  no  psychoanalysis 
is  necessary ;  in  seeking  an  internal  solution  we  encounter 
the  peculiar  virtues  of  psychoanalysis.  The  conflict  between 
“  love  and  duty  ”  must  be  solved  upon  that  particular  plane 
of  character  where  “  love  and  duty  ”  are  no  longer  in  op¬ 
position,  for  indeed  they  really  are  not  so.  The  familiar 
conflict  between  “  instinct  and  conventional  morality  ”  must  be 
solved  in  such  a  way  that  both  factors  are  taken  satisfactorily 
into  account,  and  this  is  only  possible  through  a  change  of 
character.  This  change  psychoanalysis  can  bring  about.  In 
such  cases  external  solutions  are  worse  than  none  at  all. 
Naturally  the  particular  situation  dictates  which  road  the 
doctor  must  ultimately  follow,  and  what  is  then  his  duty. 
I  regard  the  conscience-searching  question  of  the  doctor’s 
remaining  true  to  his  scientific  convictions,  as  rather  unim¬ 
portant  in  comparison  with  the  incomparably  weightier  ques¬ 
tion  as  to  how  he  can  best  help  his  patient.  The  doctor  must , 
on  occasion,  be  able  to  play  the  augur.  Mundus  vult  decipi 
— but  the  cure  is  no  deception.  It  is  true  there  is  a 
conflict  between  ideal  conviction  and  concrete  possibility. 
But  we  shoidd  ill  prepare  the  ground  for  the  seed  of  the  future, 
ivere  ice  to  forget  the  tasks  of  the  pn'esent,  and  seek  only  to 


252 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


cultivate  ideals.  That  is  but  idle  dreaming.  Do  not  forget 
that  Kepler  cast  horoscopes  for  money,  and  that  countless 
artists  have  been  condemned  to  work  for  wages. 

V. 

From  Dr.  Loy. 

9th  February,  1913. 

The  selfsame  passion  for  truth  possesses  us  both  when 
we  think  of  pure  research,  and  the  same  desire  to  cure  when* 
we  are  considering  therapy.  For  the  scientist,  as  for  the 
doctor,  we  desire  the  fullest  freedom  in  all  directions,  fullest 
freedom  to  select  and  use  the  methods  which  promise  the 
best  fulfilment  of  their  ends  at  any  moment.  Here  we  are 
at  one ;  but  there  remains  a  postulate  we  must  establish  to 
the  satisfaction  of  others  if  we  want  recognition  for  our  views. 

First  and  foremost  there  is  a  question  that  must  be 
answered,  an  old  question  asked  already  in  the  Gospels : 
What  is  Truth  ?  I  think  clear  definitions  of  fundamental 
ideas  are  most  necessary.  How  shall  we  contrive  a  working 
definition  of  the  conception  “  Truth  ”  ?  Perhaps  an  allegory 
may  help  us. 

Imagine  a  gigantic  prism  extending  in  front  of  the  sun, 
so  that  its  rays  are  broken  up,  but  suppose  man  entirely 
ignorant  of  this  fact.  I  exclude  the  invisible,  chemical  and 
ultra-violet  rays.  Men  who  live  in  a  blue -lit  region  will  say  : 
“  The  sun  sends  forth  blue  light  only.”  They  are  right  and 
yet  they  are  wrong :  from  their  standpoint  they  are  capable 
of  perceiving  only  a  fragment  of  truth.  And  so  too  with  the 
inhabitants  of  the  red,  yellow,  and  in-between  regions.  And 
they  will  all  scourge  and  slay  one  another  to  force  their  belief 
in  their  fragment  upon  the  others — till,  grown  wiser  through 
travelling  in  each  others’  regions,  they  come  to  the  harmoni¬ 
ous  agreement  that  the  sun  sends  out  light  of  varying  colours. 
That  comprehends  more  truth,  but  it  is  not  yet  the  Truth. 
Only  when  a  giant  lens  shall  have  re-combined  the  split-up 
rays  and  when  the  invisible,  chemical  and  heat  rays  have 
given  proof  of  their  own  specific  effects,  will  a  view  more 


SOME  CRUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  253 

in  accordance  with  the  facts  be  able  to  arise,  and  men  will 
perceive  that  the  sun  emits  white  light  which  is  split  up 
by  the  prism  into  differing  rays  with  different  peculiarities, 
which  rays  can  be  recombined  by  the  lens  into  one  mass 
of  white  light. 

This  example  shows  sufficiently  well  that  the  road  to 
Truth  leads  through  far-reaching  and  comparative  observa¬ 
tions,  the  results  of  which  must  be  controlled  by  the  help  of 
freely  chosen  experiments ,  until  well-grounded  hypotheses  and 
theories  can  be  put  forward ;  but  these  hypotheses  and 
theories  will  fall  to  the  ground  as  soon  as  a  single  new  obser¬ 
vation  or  experiment  contradicts  them. 

The  way  is  difficult,  and  in  the  end  all  man  ever  attains 
to  is  relative  truth.  But  such  relative  truth  suffices  for  the 
time  being,  if  it  serves  to  explain  the  most  important  actual 
concatenations  of  the  past,  to  light  up  present  problems, 
to  predict  those  of  the  future,  so  that  we  are  then  in  a  posi¬ 
tion  to  achieve  adaptation  through  our  knowledge.  But  abso¬ 
lute  truth  could  be  accessible  only  to  omniscience,  aware  of 
all  possible  concatenations  and  combinations ;  that  is  not 
possible,  for  the  concatenations  and  their  combinations  are 
infinite.  Accordingly,  we  shall  never  know  more  than  an 
approximate  truth.  Should  new  relationships  be  discovered, 
new  combinations  built  up,  then  the  picture  changes,  and  with 
it  the  entire  possibilities  in  knowledge  and  power.  To  what 
revolutions  in  daily  life  does  not  every  new  scientific  discovery 
lead  :  how  absurdly  little  was  the  beginning  of  our  first  ideas 
of  electricity,  how  inconceivably  great  the  results  !  Time  and 
again  it  is  necessary  to  repeat  this  commonplace,  because  one 
sees  how  life  is  always  made  bitter  for  the  innovators  in  every 
scientific  field,  and  now  is  it  being  made  especially  so  for  the 
disciples  of  the  psychoanalytic  school.  Of  course,  every  one 
admits  the  truth  of  this  platitude  so  long  as  it  is  a  matter 
of  “  academic  ”  discussion,  but  only  so  long ;  just  as  soon 
as  a  concrete  case  has  to  be  considered,  sympathies  and 
antipathies  rush  into  the  foreground  and  darken  judgment. 
And  therefore  the  scientist  must  fight  tirelessly,  appealing  to 
logic  and  honour,  for  freedom  of  research  in  every  field,  and 


254 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


must  not  permit  authority,  of  no  matter  what  political  or 
religious  tinge,  to  advance  reasons  of  opportunism  to  destroy 
or  restrict  this  freedom;  opportunist  reasons  may  be  and 
are  in  place  elsewhere,  not  here.  Finally  we  must  com¬ 
pletely  disavow  that  maxim  of  the  Middle  Ages :  “  Philo- 
sophia  ancilla  Theologies ,”  and  no  less,  too,  the  war-cries 
of  the  university  class-rooms  with  their  partisanship  of 
one  or  other  religious  or  political  party.  All  fanaticism  is 
the  enemy  of  science,  which  must  above  all  things  be 
independent . 

And  when  we  turn  from  the  search  for  Truth  back  once 
more  to  therapeutics,  we  see  immediately  that  here  too  we 
are  in  agreement.  In  practice  expediency  must  rule  :  the 
doctor  from  the  yellow  region  must  adapt  himself  to  the 
sick  in  the  yellow  region,  as  must  the  doctor  in  blue  region 
to  his  patients ;  both  have  the  same  object  in  view.  And 
the  doctor  who  lives  in  the  white  light  of  the  sun,  must  take 
into  consideration  the  past  experiences  of  his  patients  from 
the  yellow  or  blue  region,  in  spite  of,  or  perhaps  rather 
because  of,  his  own  wider  knowledge.  In  such  cases  the  way 
to  healing  will  be  long  and  difficult,  may  indeed  lead  more 
easily  into  a  cul-de-sac ,  than  in  cases  where  he  has  to  do  with 
patients  who,  like  himself,  have  already  come  to  a  knowledge 
of  the  white  sunlight,  or,  one  might  say,  when  his  patient- 
material  has  “  already  sorted  itself  out.”  With  such  sorted- 
out  material  the  psychoanalyst  can  employ  psychoanalysis 
exclusively ;  and  may  deem  himself  happy  in  that  he  need 
not  “  play  the  augur.”  Now,  what  are  these  psychoanalytic 
methods  ?  If  I  understand  you  aright,  from  beginning  to 
end  it  is  a  question  of  dealing  directly  and  openly  with  the 
basic  forces  of  the  human  soul ,  so  that  the  analysed  person,  be 
he  sick  or  sound  or  in  some  stage  between — for  health  and 
sickness  flow  over  by  imperceptible  degrees  into  one  another 
— shall  gradually  have  his  eyes  opened  to  the  drama  that  is 
being  acted  within  him.  He  has  to  come  to  an  understanding 
of  the  development  of  the  hostile  automatisms  of  his  person¬ 
ality,  and  by  means  of  this  understanding  he  must  gradually 
learn  to  free  himself  from  them  ;  he  must  learn,  too,  how  to 


SOME  CEUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  255 


employ  and  strengthen  the  favourable  automatisms.  He  must 
learn  to  make  his  self-knowledge  real,  and  of  practical  use, 
to  control  his  soul’s  workings  so  that  a  balance  may  be 
established  between  the  spheres  of  emotion  and  reason.  And 
what  share  in  all  this  has  the  physician’s  suggestion  ?  I  can 
scarcely  believe  that  suggestion  can  be  altogether  avoided  till 
the  patient  feels  himself  really  free.  Such  freedom,  it  goes 
without  saying,  is  the  main  thing  to  strive  for,  and  it  must 
be  active .  The  sick  man  who  simply  obeys  a  suggestion, 
obeys  it  only  just  so  long  as  the  “  transference  to  the  doctor  ” 
remains  potent. 

But  if  he  wishes  to  be  able  to  adjust  himself  to  all  circum¬ 
stances  he  must  have  fortified  himself  “  from  within.”  He 
should  no  longer  need  the  crutches  of  faith,  but  be  capable 
of  encountering  all  theoretical  and  practical  problems  squarely, 
and  of  solving  them  by  himself.  That  is  surely  your  view  ? 
Or  have  I  not  understood  correctly  ? 

I  next  ask,  must  not  every  single  case  be  treated  differently, 
of  course  within  the  limits  of  the  psychoanalytic  method.  For 
if  every  case  is  a  case  by  itself,  it  must  indeed  demand 
individual  treatment. 

“  II  n’y  a  pas  de  maladies,  il  n’y  a  que  des  malades,”  said 
a  French  doctor  whose  name  escapes  me.  But  on  broad  lines , 
what  course,  from  a  technical  point  of  view,  does  analysis 
take,  and  what  deviations  occur  most  frequently  ?  That 
I  would  gladly  learn  from  you.  I  take  for  granted  that  all 
“  augurs’  tricks,”  darkened  rooms,  masquerading,  chloroform, 
are  out  of  the  question. 

Psychoanalysis — purged  so  far  as  is  humanly  possible  from 
suggestive  influence — appears  to  have  an  essential  difference 
from  Dubois’  psychotherapy.  With  Dubois,  from  the  begin¬ 
ning  conversation  about  the  past  is  forbidden,  and  “  the  moral 
reasons  for  recovery  ”  placed  in  the  forefront ;  whilst  psycho¬ 
analysis  uses  the  subconscious  material  from  the  patient’s 
past  as  well  as  present,  for  present  self-understanding. 
Another  difference  lies  in  the  conception  of  morality :  morals 
are  above  all  “  relative But  what  essential  forms  shall 
they  assume  at  those  moments  when  one  can  hardly  avoid 


256 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


suggestion  ?  You  will  say,  the  occasion  must  decide.  Agreed, 
as  regards  older  people,  or  adults,  who  have  to  live  in  an 
unenlightened  milieu.  But  if  one  is  dealing  with  children, 
the  seed  of  the  future,  is  it  not  a  sacred  duty  to  enlighten 
them  as  to  the  shaky  foundations  of  the  so-called  “  moral  ” 
conceptions  of  the  past,  which  have  only  a  dogmatic  basis  ; 
is  it  not  a  duty  to  educate  them  into  full  freedom  by  cour¬ 
ageously  unveiling  Truth  ?  I  ask  this  not  so  much  with 
regard  to  the  analysing  doctor  as  to  the  teacher.  May  not 
the  creation  of  free  schools  be  looked  for  as  one  task  for  the 
psychoanalyst  ? 


VI. 

From  Dr.  Jung . 

llth  February,  1913. 

The  idea  of  the  relativity  of  “  Truth  ”  has  been  current  for 
ages,  but  whether  true  or  not,  it  does  not  stand  in  the  way  of 
anything  save  the  beliefs  of  dogma  and  authority. 

You  ask  me,  or  indeed  tell  me — what  psychoanalysis  is. 
Before  considering  your  views,  permit  me  first  to  try  and  mark 
out  the  territory  and  definition  of  psychoanalysis.  Psycho¬ 
analysis  is  primarily  just  a  method — but  a  method  complying 
with  all  the  rigorous  demands  insisted  upon  to-day  by  the 
conception  “  method.”  Let  it  be  made  plain  at  once  that 
psychoanalysis  is  not  an  anamnesis ,  as  those  who  know 
everything  without  learning  are  pleased  to  believe.  It  is 
essentially  a  method  for  the  exploration  of  the  unconscious 
associations,  into  which  no  question  of  the  conscious  self 
enters.  Again,  it  is  not  a  kind  of  examination  of  the  nature 
of  an  intelligence  test,  though  this  mistake  is  common  in 
certain  circles.  It  is  no  cathartic  method ,  abreacting  real  and 
phantastic  “  traumata,”  with  or  without  hypnosis.  Psycho¬ 
analysis  is  a  method  which  makes  possible  the  analytic  reduction 
of  the  psychic  content  to  its  simplest  expression ,  and  the  discovery 
of  the  line  of  least  resistance  in  the  development  of  a  harmonious 
personality.  In  neurosis,  straightforward  direction  of  life’s 
energies  is  lacking,  because  opposing  tendencies  traverse  and 


SOME  CRUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  257 

hinder  psychological  adaptation.  Psychoanalysis,  so  far  as 
our  present  knowledge  of  it  goes,  thus  appears  to  be  simply 
a  rational  nerve-therapy. 

For  the  technical  application  of  psychoanalysis  no  pro¬ 
gramme  can  be  formulated.  There  are  only  general  prin¬ 
ciples,  and,  for  the  individual  case,  working  rules.  (Here  let 
me  refer  you  to  Freud’s  work  in  volume  I.  of  the  Inter¬ 
nationale  Zeitschrift  fur  Arztliche  Psychoanalyse.)  My  one 
working  rule  is  to  conduct  the  analysis  as  a  perfectly 
ordinary,  sensible  conversation,  and  to  avoid  all  appearance 
of  medical  magic. 

The  leading  principle  of  the  psychoanalytic  technique  is  to 
analyse  the  psychic  material  which  offers  itself  then  and  there . 
Eveiy  interference  on  the  part  of  the  analyst,  with  the  object 
of  inducing  the  analysis  to  follow  some  systematic  course,  is 
a  gross  mistake  in  technique.  So-called  chance  is  the  law  and 
the  order  of  psychoanalysis. 

Natuially  in  the  beginning  of  the  analysis  the  anamnesis 
and  the  diagnosis  come  first.  The  subsequent  analytic  pro¬ 
cess  develops  quite  differently  in  every  case.  To  give  rules 
is  well-nigh  impossible.  All  one  can  say  is  that  very  fre¬ 
quently,  quite  at  the  beginning,  a  series  of  resistances  have 
to  be  overcome,  resistances  against  both  method  and  man. 
Patients  having  no  idea  of  psychoanalysis  must  first  be  given 
some  understanding  of  the  method.  In  those  who  already 
know  something  of  it,  there  are  very  often  many  misconcep¬ 
tions  to  set  right,  and  frequently  one  has  to  deal  also  with 
many  reproaches  cast  by  scientific  criticism.  In  either  case 
the  misconceptions  rest  upon  arbitrary  interpretations,  super¬ 
ficiality,  or  complete  ignorance  of  the  facts. 

If  the  patient  is  himself  a  doctor  his  special  knowledge 
may  prove  extremely  tiresome.  To  intelligent  colleagues  it 
is  best  to  give  a  complete  theoretic  exposition.  With  foolish 
and  limited  persons  you  begin  quietly  with  analysis.  In  the 
unconscious  of  such  folk  there  is  a  confederate  that  never 
refuses  help.  From  the  analysis  of  the  very  earliest  dreams 
the  emptiness  of  the  criticism  is  obvious ;  and  ultimately  of 
the  whole  beautiful  edifice  of  supposedly  scientific  scepticism 

17 


258  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

nothing  remains,  save  a  little  heap  of  personal  vanity.  I  have 

had  amusing  experiences  here. 

It  is  best  to  let  the  patient  talk  freely  and  to^  confine 
oneself  to  pointing  out  connexions  here  and  there.  When  the 
conscious  material  is  exhausted  we  come  to  the  dreams,  which 
furnish  us  with  the  subliminal  material.  If  people  have  no 
dreams,  as  they  allege,  or  if  they  forget  them,  there  is  usually 
still  some  conscious  material  that  ought  to  be  produced  and 
discussed,  but  is  kept  back  owing  to  resistances.  When  the 
conscious  is  emptied  then  come  the  dreams,  which  are  indeed, 
as  you  know,  the  chief  material  of  the  analysis. 

How  the  “Analysis”  is  to  be  made  and  what  is  to  be 
said  to  patients  depends,  firstly,  upon  the  material  to  be  dealt 
with;  secondly,  on  the  doctor’s  skill;  and,  thirdly,  on  the 
patient’s  capacity.  I  must  insist  that  no  one  ought  to  under¬ 
take  analysis  except  on  the  basis  of  a  sound  knowledge  of 
the  subject,  that  necessitates  an  intimate  understanding  of  the 
existing  literature.  Without  this,  the  work  may  be  bungled. 

I  do  not  know  what  else  to  tell  you  beforehand.  I  must 
wait  for  further  questions.  In  regard  to  questions  of  morality 
and  education  let  me  say  that  these  belong  to  the  later  stages 
of  the  analysis,  wherein  they  find — or  should  find  solutions 
for  themselves.  You  cannot  compile  recipes  out  of  psychoanalysis. 


VII. 

From  Dr.  Loy. 

10th  February,  1913. 

You  write  that  a  solid  knowledge  of  the  psychoanalytic 
literature  is  necessary  for  an  initiation  into  psychoanalysis. 
I  should  agree,  but  with  a  certain  reservation :  the  more  one 
reads  the  more  one  notices  how  many  contradictions  there 
are  among  the  different  writers,  and  less  and  less  does  one 
know — until  one  has  had  sufficient  personal  experience  to 
which  view  to  give  adherence,  since  quite  frequently  assertions 
are  made  without  any  proof.  For  example,  I  had  thought 
(strengthened  in  the  view  by  my  own  experience  of  suggestion- 
therapy)  that  the  transference  to  the  doctor  might  be  an 


SOME  CRUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  259 


essential  condition  in  the  patient’s  cure.  But  you  write  : 
“We  psychoanalysts  do  not  build  upon  the  patient’s  faith, 
rather  do  we  have  to  deal  with  his  criticism.”  And  Stekel 
writes,  on  the  other  hand  ( Zentralblatt  fur  Psychoanalyse , 
3rd  year,  vol.  IV.,  p.  176,  “  Ausgange  der  psychoanalytischen 
Kuren  ”) :  “  Love  for  the  doctor  can  become  a  power 
essential  to  recovery.  Neurotics  never  get  well  for  love  of 
themselves.  They  recover  out  of  love  for  the  doctor.  They 
give  him  that  pleasure.”  Here  again,  surely,  stress  is  laid 
on  the  power  of  suggestion  ?  And  yet  Stekel  too  thinks  he  is 
a  psychoanalyst  pure  and  simple.  On  the  other  hand,  you 
say  in  your  letter  of  Jan.  20th  that  “the  doctor’s  personality 
is  one  of  the  main  factors  in  the  cure.”  Should  not  this 
expression  be  translated  :  “  When  the  doctor  inspires  re¬ 
spect  in  the  patient  and  is  worthy  of  his  love,  the  patient  will 
gladly  follow  his  example  and  endeavour  to  recover  from  his 
neurosis  and  fulfil  his  human  duties  in  the  widest  sense  ”  ?  I 
think  one  can  only  emerge  from  all  this  uncertainty  by  means 
of  much  personal  experience,  which  will  indicate  also  which 
way  best  suits  one’s  own  personality  and  brings  the  greatest 
therapeutic  success.  This  is  a  further  reason  for  undergoing 
analysis  oneself,  to  recognise  fully  what  one  is.  I  was  de¬ 
cidedly  in  agreement  with  your  definition  of  psychoanalysis 
in  its  first  (negative)  portion :  psychoanalysis  is  neither  an 
anamnesis  nor  a  method  of  examination  after  the  fashion  of 
a  test  for  intelligence,  nor  yet  a  psychocatharsis .  In  your 
second  (positive)  part,  however,  your  definition  :  “  Psycho¬ 
analysis  is  a  method  of  discovering  the  line  of  least  resist¬ 
ance  to  the  harmonious  development  of  the  whole  personality,” 
seems  to  me  valid  for  the  patient’s  inertia,  but  not  for  the 
releasing  of  the  sublimated  libido  with  a  view  to  the  new 
direction  of  life.  You  consider  that  the  neurosis  causes  a 
lack  of  singleness  of  aim  in  life,  because  opposing  tendencies 
hinder  psychic  adaptation.  True,  but  will  not  this  psychic 
adaptation  eventuate  quite  differently  according  as  the  patient, 
when  well,  directs  his  life  either  to  the  avoidance  of  pain 
merely  (line  of  least  resistance)  or  to  the  achievement  of 
the  greatest  pleasure  ? — In  the  first  case  he  would  be  more 


260 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


passive,  lie  would  merely  reconcile  himself  “  to  the  empti¬ 
ness  of  reality”  (Stekel,  loc.  cit.y  p.  187).  In  the  second 
he  would  be  “  filled  with  enthusiasm  ”  for  something  or 
other  or  some  person  or  other.  But  what  will  determine 
this  choice  of  his  as  to  whether  he  will  be  passive  rather 
than  active  in  his  “second  life”?  In  your  view,  will  the 
determining  factor  manifest  itself  spontaneously  in  the  course 
of  the  analysis,  and  must  the  doctor  carefully  avoid  swaying 
the  balance  to  one  side  or  other  by  his  influence  ?  Or  must 
he,  if  he  does  not  renounce  the  right  to  canalise  the  patient’s 
libido  in  some  particular  direction,  renounce  the  right  to  be 
called  a  psychoanalyst,  and  is  he  to  be  regarded  as  “  moderate  ” 
or  altogether  as  “wild”?1  (Cf.  Furtmuller,  “Wandlungen 
in  der  Freud schen  Schule,”  Zentralblatt  fur  Psychoanalyse , 
vols.  IV.,  V.,  3rd  year,  p.  191.)  But  I  think  you  have  already 
answered  this  question,  since  in  your  last  letter  you  write  : 
“  Every  interference  on  the  part  of  the  analyst  is  a  gross 
mistake  in  technique.  So-called  chance  is  the  law  and  the 
order  of  psychoanalysis.”  But,  torn  from  its  context,  per¬ 
haps  this  does  not  quite  give  your  whole  meaning.  With 
regard  to  detailed  explanation  of  the  psychoanalytic  method 
before  the  beginning  of  the  analysis,  I  think  you  agree  with 
Freud  and  Stekel :  give  too  little  rather  than  too  much.  For 
the  knowledge  instilled  into  a  patient  remains  more  or  less  half¬ 
knowledge,  and  half- knowledge  engenders  “  the  desire  to  know 
better  ”  (than  the  analyst),  which  only  impedes  progress. 
So,  after  brief  explanation,  first  “  let  the  patient  talk,”  then 
and  there  point  out  connexions,  then  after  the  exhaustion  of 
the  conscious  material,  take  dreams. 

But  there  another  difficulty  confronts  me  which  I  have 
already  pointed  out  in  our  talks :  you  find  the  patient 
adapting  himself  to  the  doctor’s  tone,  language,  jargon, 
whether  from  conscious  imitation,  transference,  or  even 
resistance,  when  he  can  fight  the  analyst  with  his  own 
weapons ;  how  then  can  you  possibly  prevent  his  beginning 
to  produce  all  manner  of  phantasies  as  supposedly  real 

1  “Selected  Papers  on  Hysteria  and  other  Psychoneuroses. "  Mono¬ 
graph  Series ,  No  4,  last  edition. 


SOME  CRUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  261 


traumata  of  early  childhood,  and  dreams  supposedly  sponta¬ 
neous  which  are  in  reality,  though  not  designedly,  directly 
or  indirectly  suggested  ?  I  then  told  you  that  Forel  (“  Der 
Hypnotismus  ”)  made  his  patients  dream  just  what  he 
wanted,  and  I  have  myself  easily  repeated  the  experiment. 
But  if  the  analyst  desires  to  suggest  nothing ,  should  he 
remain  silent  for  the  most  part  and  let  the  patient  speak 
— except  that  in  interpreting  dreams  he  may  lay  before  the 
patient  his  own  interpretation  ? 


VIII 

From  Dr.  Jung . 

18th  February,  1918. 

I  cannot  but  agree  with  your  observation  that  confusion 
reigns  in  psychoanalytic  literature.  Just  at  this  moment 
different  points  of  view  are  developing  in  the  theoretical 
conception  of  the  analytic  results ;  not  to  mention  many 
individual  deviations.  Over  against  Freud’s  almost  purely 
causal  conception,  there  has  developed,  apparently  in  abso¬ 
lute  contradiction,  Adler’s  purely  final  view,  but  in  reality 
the  latter  is  an  essential  complement  of  Freud’s  theory.  I 
hold  rather  to  a  middle  course,  taking  into  account  both 
standpoints.  That  discord  still  reigns  round  the  ultimate 
questions  of  psychoanalysis  need  not  surprise  us  when 
we  consider  the  difficulty.  The  problem  of  the  therapeutic 
effect  of  psychoanalysis  is  bound  up  in  particular  with 
supremely  difficult  questions,  so  that  it  would  indeed  be 
astonishing  if  we  had  yet  reached  final  certitude.  Stekel’s 
statement  to  which  you  refer  is  very  characteristic.  What  he 
says  about  love  for  the  doctor  is  obviously  true,  but  it  is 
a  simple  affirmation,  and  not  a  goal  or  plumb-line  of  the 
analytic  therapy.  If  his  statement  were  the  goal,  many 
cures,  it  is  true,  would  be  possible,  but  also  many  calamities 
might  result  which  are  avoidable.  But  the  aim  is  so  to 
educate  the  patient,  that  he  will  get  well  for  his  own  sake 


*262 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


and  by  reason  of  his  own  determination,  rather  than  to  procure 
his  doctor  some  sort  of  advantage  ;  though  of  course  it  would 
be  absurd  from  the  therapeutic  standpoint  not  to  allow  the 
patient  to  get  better  because  in  doing  so  he  does  the  doctor  a 
good  turn  also.  It  suffices  if  the  patient  knows  it.  But  we 
must  not  prescribe  for  him  which  path  he  should  take  to 
recovery.  Naturally  it  seems  to  me  (from  the  psycho¬ 
analytic  standpoint)  an  inadmissible  use  of  suggestive  in¬ 
fluence  if  the  patient  is  compelled  to  get  better  out  of  love  for 
the  doctor.  And  indeed  such  compulsion  may  sometimes  take 
bitter  revenge.  The  “you  must  and  shall  be  saved’  is  no 
more  to  be  commended  in  nerve-therapy  than  in  any  other 
department  of  life.  It  contradicts  the  principle  of  analytic 
treatment,  which  shuns  all  coercion  and  desires  to  let  every¬ 
thing  grow  up  from  within.  I  do  not,  as  you  know,  object  to 
influencing  by  use  of  suggestion  in  general,  but  merely  to  a 
doubtful  motivation.  If  the  doctor  demands  that  his  patient 
shall  get  well  from  love  of  himself,  the  patient  may  easily 
reckon  on  reciprocal  services  and  will  without  doubt  try  to 
extort  them.  I  can  but  utter  a  warning  against  any  such 
method.  A  far  stronger  motive  for  recovery — also  a  far 
healthier  and  ethically  more  valuable  one — consists  in  the 
patient’s  thorough  insight  into  the  real  state  of  affairs,  the 
recognition  of  how  things  are  now  and  how  they  ought  to  be. 
The  man  of  any  sort  of  worth  will  then  discern  that  he  can 
hardly  sit  down  at  ease  in  the  quagmire  of  his  neurosis. 

With  your  rendering  of  what  I  said  about  the  healing 
power  of  personality  I  cannot  entirely  agree.  I  wrote  that 
the  doctor’s  personality  has  a  power  for  healing  because  the 
patient  reads  the  doctor’s  personality :  not  that  he  produces 
a  cure  through  love  of  the  doctor.  The  doctor  cannot  prevent 
the  patient’s  beginning  to  behave  himself  towards  his  con¬ 
flicts  just  as  the  doctor  himself  behaves,  for  nothing  is  finer 
than  a  neurotic’s  intuition.  But  every  strong  transference 
serves  this  same  purpose.  If  the  doctor  makes  himself  charm¬ 
ing  he  buys  off  from  the  patient  a  series  of  resistances  which 
he  should  have  overcome,  and  whose  overcoming  will  cer¬ 
tainly  have  to  be  gone  through  later  on.  Nothing  is  won 


SOME  CRUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  263 


by  this  technique;  at  most  the  beginning  of  the  analysis 
is  made  easy  for  the  patient  (though  this  is  not  quite  with¬ 
out  its  use  in  certain  cases).  To  be  able  to  crawl  through  a 
barbed  wire  fence  without  some  enticing  end  in  view  testifies 
to  an  ascetic  strength  of  will  which  you  can  expect  neither 
from  the  ordinary  person  nor  from  the  neurotic.  Even  the 
Christian  religion,  whose  moral  demands  certainly  reached 
a  great  height,  thought  it  no  scorn  to  represent  the  near 
approach  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  as  goal  and  reward  of 
earthly  pain.  In  my  view,  the  doctor  may  well  speak  of  the 
rewards  which  follow  the  toils  of  analysis.  But  he  must  not 
depict  himself  or  his  friendship,  in  hints  or  promises  as  reward, 
if  he  is  not  seriously  determined  to  keep  his  word. 

In  regard  to  your  criticism  of  my  outline-definition  of  the 
conception  of  psychoanalysis,  it  must  be  observed  that  the 
road  over  the  steep  mountain  is  the  line  of  least  resistance 
only  when  a  ferocious  bull  waits  for  you  in  the  pleasant 
valley-road.  In  other  words,  the  line  of  least  resistance  is  a 
compromise  with  all  demands,  and  not  with  inertia  alone. 
It  is  prejudice  to  think  that  the  line  of  least  resistance 
coincides  with  the  path  of  inertia.  (That’s  what  we  thought 
in  the  days  when  we  dawdled  over  Latin  exercises.)  Inertia 
is  only  an  immediate  advantage  and  leads  to  consequences 
which  produce  the  worst  resistances ;  as  a  whole,  it  does  not 
lie  in  the  direction  of  least  resistance.  Life  along  the  line 
of  least  resistance  is  not  synonymous  with  a  man’s  regard¬ 
less  pursuit  of  his  own  egoistic  desires.  He  who  lives  thus, 
soon  painfully  perceives  that  he  is  not  moving  along  the 
line  of  least  resistance,  for  he  is  also  a  social  being,  and 
not  merely  a  bundle  of  egoistic  instincts,  as  some  people 
rather  like  to  depict  him.  This  is  best  seen  among  primitive 
men  and  herd-animals,  who  all  have  a  richly  developed  social 
sense.  Without  it,  indeed,  the  herd  could  not  exist  at  all. 
Man  as  herd-animal  has  therefore  by  no  manner  of  means  to 
subject  himself  to  laws  enforced  on  him  from  without;  he 
carries  his  social  imperatives  within  himself,  a  priori,  as  an 
inborn  necessity.  As  you  see,  I  here  put  myself  in  decided 
opposition  to  certain  views — I  think  quite  unjustified — which 


264  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

have  been  put  forth  here  and  there  inside  the  psychoanalytic 
movement. 

So  the  line  of  least  resistance  does  not  signify  eo  ipso 
the  avoidance  of  unpleasure  so  much  as  the  just  balancing 
of  unpleasure  and  pleasure.  Painful  activity  by  itself  leads 
to  no  result  but  exhaustion.  Man  must  be  able  to  take 
pleasure  in  his  life,  or  the  struggle  of  life  has  no  reward. 
What  direction  the  patient’s  future  life  should  take  is  not 
ours  to  judge.  We  must  not  imagine  we  know  better 
than  his  own  nature — or  we  prove  ourselves  educators  of 
the  worst  kind.  Psychoanalysis  is  but  a  means  of  removing 
stones  from  the  path,  and  in  no  way  a  method  (as  hypnotism 
often  pretends  to  be)  of  putting  anything  into  the  patient 
which  was  not  there  before.  So  we  renounce  any  attempt 
to  give  a  direction,  and  occupy  ourselves  only  with  setting 
in  proper  relief  all  that  analysis  brings  into  the  light  of 
day,  in  order  that  the  patient  may  see  clearly,  and  be 
in  a  position  to  draw  the  appropriate  conclusions.  Any¬ 
thing  that  he  has  not  himself  won,  he  does  not  in  the  long 
run  believe  in;  and  all  that  he  has  received  from  authority 
keeps  him  still  infantile.  He  must  rather  be  put  in  such 
a  position  as  will  enable  him  to  take  control  of  his  own 
life.  It  is  the  art  of  the  psychoanalyst  to  follow  the 
patient’s  apparently  mistaken  paths  without  prejudice,  and 
thus  to  discover  his  strayed  and  separated  sheep.  Working 
on  a  system,  according  to  a  preconceived  scheme,  we  spoil 
the  best  results  of  the  analysis.  So  I  hold  fast  to  the 
maxim  you  quote  from  me:  “Every  interference  on  the 
part  of  the  analyst  is  a  gross  mistake  in  technique.  So- 
called  chance  is  the  law  and  the  order  of  psychoanalysis.” 

You  surely  recognise  that  the  schoolmaster-view  never 
releases  us  from  the  attempt  to  correct  Nature  and  the  desire 
to  force  upon  her  our  limited  “truths.”  In  nerve-therapy 
we  get  so  many  wonderful  experiences — unforeseen  and  im¬ 
possible  to  foresee — that  surely  we  ought  to  dismiss  all  hope 
of  being  infallibly  able  to  point  out  the  right  path.  The 
roundabout  way  and  even  the  wrong  way  are  necessary.  If 
you  deny  this  you  must  also  deny  that  the  errors  in  the 


SOME  CRUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  265 


history  of  the  whole  world  have  been  necessary.  That  indeed 
were  a  world-conception  fit  for  a  schoolmaster.  For  psycho¬ 
analysis  this  view  suits  not  at  all. 

The  question  as  to  how  much  the  analyst  involuntarily 
suggests  to  the  patient  is  a  very  ticklish  one.  Undoubtedly 
that  has  a  much  more  important  place  than  psychoanalysts 
have  till  now  admitted.  Experience  has  convinced  us  that 
the  patient  rapidly  avails  himself  of  the  ideas  won  through 
the  analysis,  and  of  whatever  comes  to  light  through 
the  shaping'  of  the  dreams.  You  may  obtain  all  manner 
of  such  impressions  from  Stekel’s  book:  “Die  Sprache 
des  Traumes  ”  (“The  Language  of  the  Dream”).  I  had 
once  a  most  instructive  experience :  a  very  intelligent  lady 
had  from  the  beginning  extreme  transference  phantasies 
which  appeared  in  well-recognised  erotic  forms.  Nevertheless 
she  entirely  declined  to  admit  their  existence.  Of  course 
she  was  betrayed  by  the  dreams  in  which  my  own  person 
was  hidden  behind  some  other  figure,  and  often  difficult 
to  unveil.  A  long  series  of  such  dreams  forced  me  at 
last  to  say  :  “  So  you  see  it  is  always  like  that,  and  the 
person  of  whom  one  has  really  dreamt  is  replaced  and 
hidden  by  some  one  else  in  the  manifest  dream.”  Till  then 
the  patient  had  obstinately  contested  this  point.  But  this 
time  she  could  no  longer  evade  it,  and  had  to  admit  my 
rule — but  only  that  she  might  play  me  a  trick.  Next  day 
she  brought  me  a  dream  in  which  she  and  I  appeared  in 
a  manifest  lascivious  situation.  I  was  naturally  perplexed 
and  thought  of  my  rule.  Her  first  association  to  the  dream 
was  the  malicious  question:  “It’s  always  true,  isn’t  it,  that 
the  person  of  whom  one  is  really  dreaming  is  replaced  by 
some  one  else  in  the  manifest  dream-content  ?  ” 

Clearly,  she  had  made  use  of  her  experience  to  find  a 
protective  formula  by  means  of  which  she  secured  the  open 
expression  of  her  phantasies  in  an  apparently  innocent  way. 

This  example  aptly  shows  how  patients  avail  themselves 
of  insight  gained  during  analysis  ;  they  use  it  symbolically. 
You  get  caught  in  your  own  net  if  you  give  credence  to 
the  idea  of  unalterable,  permanent  symbols.  That  has 


266 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


already  happened  to  more  than  one  psychoanalyst.  It 
is  therefore  fallacious  to  try  to  prove  any  particular  theory 
from  the  dreams  arising  in  the  course  of  analysis.  For  this 
purpose  the  only  conclusive  dreams  are  those  derived  from 
demonstrably  uninfluenced  persons.  In  such  cases  one 
would  only  have  to  exclude  the  possibility  of  telepathic 
thought-reading.  But  if  you  concede  this  possibility  you 
will  have  to  subject  very  many  things  to  a  rigorous  re¬ 
examination  and,  among  others,  many  judicial  verdicts. 

But  although  we  must  do  full  justice  to  the  force  of 
suggestion,  we  must  not  overrate  it.  The  patient  is  no 
empty  sack  into  which  you  may  stuff  whatever  you  like; 
on  the  contrary,  he  brings  his  own  predetermined  contents 
which  strive  obstinately  against  suggestion  and  always  ob¬ 
trude  themselves  afresh.  Through  analytic  “  suggestions,  ” 
only  the  outward  form  is  determined,  never  the  content — 
this  is  always  being  freshly  impressed  upon  my  notice.  The 
form  is  the  unlimited,  the  ever-changing ;  but  the  content  is 
fixed,  and  only  to  be  assailed  slowly  and  with  great  difficulty. 
Were  it  not  so,  suggestion  therapy  would  be  in  every  respect 
the  most  effective,  profitable,  and  easiest  therapy, — a  real 
panacea.  That,  alas  !  it  is  not,  as  every  honourable  hypnotist 
will  freely  admit. 

To  return  to  your  question  as  to  how  far  it  is  con¬ 
ceivable  that  patients  may  deceive  the  doctor  by  making  use 
— perhaps  involuntarily — of  his  expressions :  this  is  indeed 
a  very  serious  problem.  The  analyst  must  exercise  all  pos¬ 
sible  care  and  practise  unsparing  self-criticism  if  he  would 
avoid,  as  far  as  possible,  being  led  into  error  by  patients’ 
dreams.  It  may  be  admitted  that  they  almost  always  use 
modes  of  expression  in  their  dreams  learnt  in  analysis 
some  more,  some  less.  Interpretations  of  earlier  symbols 
will  themselves  be  used  again  as  fresh  symbols  in  later  dreams. 
It  happens  not  seldom,  for  instance,  that  sexual  situations 
which  appear  in  symbolic  form  in  the  earlier  dreams,  will 
appear  “undisguised”  in  later  ones,  and  here  again  they 
are  the  symbolic  expression  of  ideas  of  another  character 
capable  of  further  analysis.  The  not  infrequent  dream 


SOME  CRUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  267 


of  incestuous  cohabitation  is  by  no  means  an  “undisguised ” 
content,  but  a  dream  as  freshly  symbolic  and  capable  of 
analysis  as  all  others.  You  surely  only  reach  the  paradoxical 
view  that  such  a  dream  is  “  undisguised  ”  if  you  are  pledged 
to  the  sexual  theory  of  neurosis. 

That  the  patient  may  mislead  the  doctor  for  a  longer 
or  shorter  time  by  means  of  deliberate  deception  and  mis¬ 
representation  is  possible  ;  just  as  occasionally  happens  in  all 
other  departments  of  medicine.  Therewith  the  patient  injures 
himself  most,  since  he  has  to  pay  for  every  deception  or 
suppression,  with  aggravated  or  additional  symptoms.  De¬ 
ceptions  are  so  obviously  disadvantageous  to  himself  that 
in  the  end  he  can  scarcely  avoid  the  definite  relinquishment 
of  such  a  course. 

The  technique  of  analysis  we  can  best  postpone  for  oral 
discussion. 


IX 

From  Dr.  Loy. 

23rd  February,  1913. 

From  your  letter  of  16th  February  I  want  first  to  single  out 
the  end,  where  you  so  admirably  assign  to  its  proper  place 
the  power  of  suggestion  in  psychoanalysis:  “  The  patient  is 
no  empty  sack,  into  which  you  can  cram  what  you  will ;  he 
brings  his  own  predetermined  content  with  him,  with  which 
one  has  always  to  reckon  afresh.”  With  this  I  fully  agree, 
my  own  experience  confirms  it.  And  you  add  :  “  This  content 
remains  untouched  by  involuntary  analytical  suggestion,  but 
its  form  is  altered,  proteus-fashion,  beyond  measure.”  So 
it  becomes  a  matter  of  a  sort  of  “mimicry”  by  which  the 
patient  seeks  to  escape  the  analyst,  who  is  driving  him  into  a 
corner  and  therefore  for  the  moment  seems  to  him  an  enemy. 
Until  at  last,  through  the  joint  work  of  patient  and  analyst 
— the  former  spontaneously  yielding  up  his  psychic  content, 
the  latter  only  interpreting  and  explaining — the  analysis 
succeeds  in  bringing  so  much  light  into  the  darkness  of  the 


268 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


patient’s  psyche  that  he  can  see  the  true  relationships  and, 
without  any  preconceived  plan  of  the  analyst’s,  can  himself 
draw  the  right  conclusions  and  apply  them  to  his  future  life. 
This  new  life  will  betake  itself  along  the  line  of  least  resist¬ 
ance — or  should  we  not  rather  say,  the  least  resistances,  as 
•  a  “  compromise  with  all  the  necessities,”  in  a  just  balancing 
of  pleasure  and  unpleasure  ?  It  is  not  we  who  must  arbitra¬ 
rily  seek  to  determine  how  matters  stand  for  the  patient  and 
what  will  benefit  him ;  his  own  nature  decides.  In  other  words, 
we  must  assume  the  role  of  the  accoucheur  who  can  bring 
out  into  the  light  of  day  a  child  already  alive,  but  who  must 
avoid  a  series  of  mistakes  if  the  child  is  to  remain  able  to  live 
and  the  mother  is  not  to  be  injured.  All  this  is  very  clear  to 
me,  since  it  is  only  the  application  to  the  psychoanalytic 
method  of  a  general  principle  which  should  have  universal 
validity :  never  do  violence  to  Nature.  Hence  I  also  see 
that  the  psychoanalyst  must  follow  his  patient’s  appar¬ 
ently  “  wrong  roads  ”  if  the  patient  is  ever  to  arrive  at  his 
own  convictions  and  be  freed  once  and  for  all  from  infantile 
reliance  on  authority.  We  ourselves  as  individuals  have  learnt, 
or  can  only  learn,  by  making  mistakes,  how  to  avoid  them 
for  the  future,  and  mankind  as  a  whole  has  created  the 
conditions  of  its  present  and  future  stages  of  development 
quite  as  much  by  frequent  travel  along  wrong  paths  as  along 
the  right  road.  Have  not  many  neurotics — I  do  not  know  if 
you  will  agree,  but  I  think  so — become  ill  partly  for  the  very 
reason  that  their  infantile  faith  in  authority  has  fallen  to 
pieces  ?  Now  they  stand  before  the  wreckage  of  their  faith, 
weeping  over  it,  in  dire  distress  because  they  cannot  find  a 
substitute  which  shall  show  them  clearly  whither  their  life’s 
course  should  now  turn.  So  they  remain  stuck  fast  betwixt 
infancy  which  they  must  unwillingly  renounce,  and  the 
serious  duties  of  the  present  and  future  (the  moral  conflict). 
I  see,  particularly  in  such  cases,  you  are  right  in  saying 
it  is  a  mistake  to  seek  to  replace  the  lost  faith  in 
authority  by  another  similar  faith,  certain  to  be  useful  only 
so  long  as  the  belief  lasted.  This  applies  to  the  deliberate 
use  of  suggestion  in  psychoanalysis,  and  the  building  upon 


SOME  CRUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  269 


the  transference  to  the  doctor  as  the  object  of  the  analytic 
therapy.  I  am  no  longer  in  doubt  about  your  maxim : 
“  Every  interference  on  the  analyst’s  part  is  a  gross  mistake 
in  technique.  So-called  chance  is  the  law  and  the  order  of 
psychoanalysis.”  Further,  I  am  entirely  in  agreement  with 
you  when  you  say  that  altruism  necessarily  must  be  innate  in 
man  considered  as  a  herd-animal.  The  contrary  would  be  the 
thing  to  be  wondered  at. 

I  should  be  much  disposed  to  agree  that  not  the  egoistic, 
but  the  altruistic  instincts  are  primary.  Love  and  trust 
of  the  child  for  the  mother  who  feeds  it,  nurses,  cherishes 
and  pets  it,— love  of  the  man  for  his  wife,  regarded  as  the 
going  out  towards  another’s  personality, — love  for  offspring, 
care  for  it, — love  for  kinsfolk,  etc.  The  egoistic  instincts 
owe  their  origin  to  the  desire  for  exclusive  possession  of  all 
that  surrounds  love,  the  desire  to  possess  the  mother  exclu¬ 
sively,  in  opposition  to  the  father  and  the  brothers  and 
sisters,  the  desire  to  have  a  woman  for  himself  alone,  the 
desire  to  possess  exclusively  ornaments,  clothing,  etc.  But 
perhaps  you  will  say  I  am  paradoxical  and  that  the  instincts, 
egoistic  or  altruistic,  arise  together  in  the  heart  of  man,  and 
that  every  instinct  is  ambivalent  in  nature.  But  I  have  to 
ask  if  the  feelings  and  instincts  are  really  ambivalent  ?  Are 
they  exactly  bipolar  ?  Are  the  qualities  of  all  emotions 
altogether  comparable  ?  Is  love  really  the  opposite  of  hate  ? 

However  that  may  be,  in  any  case  it  is  well  that  man 
bears  the  social  law  within  himself,  as  an  inborn  imperative  ; 
otherwise  our  civilised  humanity  would  fare  badly,  having  to 
subject  themselves  to  laws  imposed  on  them  from  outside 
only:  they  would  be  impervious  to  the  inheritance  of  the 
earlier  religious  faiths,  and  would  soon  fall  into  complete 
anarchy.  Man  would  then  have  to  ask  himself  whether  it 
would  not  be  better  to  maintain  by  force  an  extreme  belief  in 
religious  authority  such  as  prevailed  in  the  Middle  Ages.  For 
the  benefits  of  civilisation,  which  strove  to  grant  every  indi¬ 
vidual  as  much  outward  freedom  as  was  consistent  with  the 
freedom  of  others,  would  be  well  worth  the  sacrifice  of  free 
research.  But  the  age  of  this  use  of  force  against  nature  is 


270 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


past,  civilised  man  has  left  this  wrong  track  behind,  not 
arbitrarily,  but  obeying  an  inner  necessity,  and  we  may  look 
joyfully  towards  the  future.  Mankind,  advancing  in  know¬ 
ledge,  will  find  its  way  across  the  ruins  of  faith  in  authority 
to  the  moral  autonomy  of  the  individual. 


X 


From  Dr.  Jung. 

March,  1913. 

At  various  places  in  your  letters  it  has  struck  me  that 
the  problem  of  “transference”  seems  to  you  particularly 
critical.  Your  feeling  is  entirely  justified.  The  transference 
is  indeed  at  present  the  central  problem  of  analysis. 

You  know  that  Freud  regards  the  transference  as  the 
projection  of  infantile  phantasies  upon  the  doctor.  To  this 
extent  the  transference  is  an  infantile-erotic  relationship. 
All  the  same,  viewed  from  the  outside,  superficially,  the 
thing  by  no  means  always  looks  like  an  infantile-erotic 
situation.  As  long  as  it  is  a  question  of  the  so-called 
“positive”  transference,  the  infantile-erotic  character  can 
usually  be  recognised  without  difficulty.  But  if  it  is  a 
“  negative  ”  transference,  you  can  see  nothing  but  violent 
resistances  which  sometimes  veil  themselves  in  seemingly 
critical  or  sceptical  dress.  In  a  certain  sense  the  deter¬ 
mining  factor  in  such  circumstances  is  the  patient’s  relation 
to  authority,  that  is,  in  the  last  resort,  to  the  father.  In 
both  forms  of  transference  the  doctor  is  treated  as  if  he 
were  the  father — according  to  the  situation  either  tenderly 
or  with  hostility.  In  this  view  the  transference  has  the 
force  of  a  resistance  as  soon  as  it  becomes  a  question  of 
resolving  the  infantile  attitude.  But  this  form  of  trans¬ 
ference  must  be  destroyed,  inasmuch  as  the  object  of 
analysis  is  the  patient’s  moral  autonomy.  A  lofty  aim,  you 
will  say.  Indeed  lofty,  and  far  off,  but  still  not  altogether 
so  remote,  since  it  actually  corresponds  to  one  of  the  pre¬ 
dominating  tendencies  of  our  stage  of  civilisation,  namely, 


SOME  CRUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  271 


that  urge  towards  individualisation  by  which  our  whole 
epoch  deserves  to  be  characterised.  (Cf.  Muller-Lyer :  “  Die 
Familie.”)  If  a  man  does  not  believe  in  this  orientation 
and  still  bows  before  the  scientific  causal  view-point,  he  will, 
of  course,  be  disposed  merely  to  resolve  this  hostility,  and  to 
let  the  patient  remain  in  a  positive  relationship  towards  the 
father,  thus  expressing  the  ideal  of  an  earlier  epoch  of  civilisa¬ 
tion.  It  is  commonly  recognised  that  the  Catholic  Church 
represents  one  of  the  most  powerful  organisations  based  upon 
this  earlier  tendency.  I  cannot  venture  to  doubt  that  there 
are  very  many  individuals  who  feel  happier  under  com¬ 
pulsion  from  others  than  when  forced  to  discipline  them¬ 
selves.  (Cf.  Shaw:  4  £  Man  and  Superman.”)  Nonetheless, 
we  do  our  neurotic  patients  a  grievous  wrong  if  we  try  to  force 
them  all  into  the  category  of  the  unfree.  Among  neurotics, 
there  are  not  a  few  who  do  not  require  any  reminders  of 
their  social  duties  and  obligations ;  rather  are  they  born  or 
destined  to  become  the  bearers  of  new  social  ideals.  They 
are  neurotic  so  long  as  they  bow  down  to  authority  and 
refuse  the  freedom  to  which  they  are  destined.  Whilst  we 
look  at  life  only  retrospectively,  as  is  the  case  in  the  Viennese 
psychoanalytic  writings,  we  shall  never  do  justice  to  this 
type  of  case  and  never  bring  the  longed-for  deliverance.  For 
in  that  fashion  we  can  only  educate  them  to  become  obedient 
children,  and  thereby  strengthen  the  very  forces  that  have 
made  them  ill — their  conservative  retardation  and  their  sub¬ 
missiveness  to  authority.  Up  to  a  certain  point  this  is  the 
right  way  to  take  with  the  infantile  resistance  which  cannot 
yet  reconcile  itself  with  authority.  But  the  power  which 
edged  them  out  from  their  retrograde  dependence  on  the 
father  is  not  at  all  a  childish  desire  for  insubordination,  but 
the  powerful  urge  towards  the  development  of  an  individual 
personality,  and  this  struggle  is  their  imperative  life’s  task. 
Adler’s  psychology  does  much  greater  justice  to  this  situation 
than  Freud’s 

In  the  one  case  (that  of  infantile  intractability)  the  posi¬ 
tive  transference  signifies  a  highly  important  achievement, 
heralding  cure;  in  the  other  (infantile  submissiveness)  it 


272 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


portends  a  dangerous  backsliding,  a  convenient  evasion  of 
life’s  duty.  The  negative  transference  represents  in  the  first 
case  an  increased  resistance,  thus  a  backsliding  and  an 
evasion  of  duty,  but  in  the  second  it  is  an  advance  of  heal¬ 
ing  significance.  (For  the  two  types,  cf.  Adler’s  “  Trotz  und 
Gehorsam.”) 

The  transference  then  is,  as  you  see,  to  be  judged  quite 
differently  in  different  cases. 

The  psychological  process  of  “  transference  ” — be  it  nega¬ 
tive  or  positive— consists  in  the  libido  entrenching  itself ,  as 
it  were,  round  the  personality  of  the  doctor,  the  doctor 
accordingly  representing  certain  emotional  values.  (As  you 
know,  by  libido  I  understand  very  much  what  Antiquity 
meant  by  the  cosmogenic  principle  of  Eros ;  in  modern  termi¬ 
nology  simply  “  psychic  energy.”)  The  patient  is  bound  to 
the  doctor,  be  it  in  affection,  be  it  in  opposition,  and  cannot 
fail  to  follow  and  imitate  the  doctor’s  psychic  adaptations. 
To  this  he  finds  himself  urgently  compelled.  And  with  the 
best  will  in  the  world  and  all  technical  skill,  the  doctor  can¬ 
not  prevent  him,  for  intuition  works  surely  and  instinctively, 
in  despite  of  the  conscious  judgment,  be  it  never  so  strong. 
Were  the  doctor  himself  neurotic,  and  inadequate  in  response 
to  the  demands  of  the  external  life,  or  inharmonious  within, 
the  patient  would  copy  the  defect  and  build  it  up  into  the 
fabric  of  his  own  presentations  :  you  may  imagine  the  result. 

Accordingly  I  cannot  regard  the  transference  as  merely 
the  transference  of  infantile- erotic  phantasies ;  no  doubt  that 
is  what  it  is  from  one  standpoint,  but  I  see  also  in  it,  as  I 
said  in  an  earlier  letter,  the  process  of  the  growth  of  feeling 
and  adaptation.  From  this  standpoint  the  infantile  erotic 
phantasies,  in  spite  of  their  indisputable  reality,  appear 
rather  as  material  for  comparison  or  as  analogous  pictures 
of  something  not  understood  as  yet,  than  as  independent 
desires.  This  seems  to  me  the  real  reason  of  their  being 
unconscious.  The  patient,  not  knowing  the  right  attitude, 
tries  to  grasp  at  a  right  relationship  to  the  doctor  by  way  of 
comparison  and  analogy  with  his  infantile  experiences.  It  is 
not  surprising  that  he  gropes  back  for  just  the  most  intimate 


SOME  CRUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  273 

relations  of  bis  childhood,  to  discover  the  appropriate  formula 
for  his  attitude  to  the  doctor,  for  this  relationship  also  is 
very  intimate,  and  to  some  extent  different  from  the  sexual 
relationship,  just  as  is  that  of  the  child  towards  its  parents. 
This  relationship — child  to  parent — which  Christianity  has 
everywhere  set  up  as  the  symbolic  formula  for  human  re¬ 
lationships,  provides  a  way  of  restoring  to  the  patient  that 
directness  of  ordinary  human  emotion  of  which  he  had  been 
deprived  through  the  inroad  of  sexual  and  social  values  (from 
the  standpoint  of  power,  etc.).  The  purely  sexual,  more  or 
less  primitive  and  barbaric  valuation,  operates  in  far-reaching 
ways  against  a  direct,  simple  human  relationship,  and  there¬ 
upon  a  blocking  of  the  libido  occurs  which  easily  gives  rise 
to  neurotic  formations.  By  means  of  analysis  of  the  infantile 
poition  of  the  transference-phantasies,  the  patient  is  brought 
back  to  the  remembrance  of  his  childhood’s  relationship,  and 
stripped  of  its  infantile  qualities — gives  him  a  beautiful, 
clear  picture  of  direct  human  intercourse  as  opposed  to  the 
puiely  sexual  valuation.  I  cannot  regard  it  as  other  than  a 
misconception  to  judge  the  childish  relationship  retrospec¬ 
tively  and  therefore  as  exclusively  a  sexual  one,  even  though 
a  certain  sexual  content  can  in  no  wise  be  denied  to  it. 

Recapitulating,  let  me  say  this  much  of  the  positive  trans¬ 
ference  : — 

The  patients  libido  fastens  upon  the  person  of  the  doctor, 
taking  the  shape  of  expectation,  hope,  interest,  trust,  friend¬ 
ship  and  love.  Then  the  transference  produces  the  projec¬ 
tion  upon  the  doctor  of  infantile  phantasies,  often  of  pre¬ 
dominatingly  erotic  tinge.  At  this  stage  the  transference  is 
usually  of  a  decidedly  sexual  character,  in  spite  of  the  sexual 
component  remaining  relatively  unconscious.  But  this  phase 
of  feeling  serves  the  higher  aspect  of  the  growth  of  human 
leeling  as  a  bridge,  whereby  the  patient  becomes  conscious  of 
the  defectiveness  of  his  own  adaptation,  through  his  recog¬ 
nition  of  the  doctor  s  attitude,  which  is  accepted  as  one 
suitable  to  life’s  demands,  and  normal  in  its  human  relation¬ 
ships.  By  help  of  the  analysis,  and  the  recalling  of  his 
childish  relationships,  the  road  is  seen  which  leads  right 

18 


274 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


out  of  those  exclusively  sexual  or  “power”  evaluations  of 
social  surroundings  which  were  acquired  in  pubeity  and 
strongly  reinforced  by  social  prejudices.  This  road  leads  on 
towards  a  purely  human  relation  and  intimacy,  not  derived 
solely  from  the  existence  of  a  sexual  or  power-relation,  but 
depending  much  more  upon  a  regard  for  personality.  That 
is  the  road  to  freedom  which  the  doctor  must  show  his 
patient. 

Here  indeed  I  must  not  omit  to  say  that  the  obstinate 
clinging  to  the  sexual  valuation  would  not  be  maintained 
so  tenaciously  if  it  had  not  also  a  very  deep  significance 
for  that  period  of  life  in  which  propagation  is  of  primary 
importance.  The  discovery  of  the  value  of  human  personality 
belongs  to  a  riper  age.  For  young  people  the  search  for  the 
valuable  personality  is  very  often  merely  a  cloak  for  the 
evasion  of  their  biological  duty.  On  the  other  hand,  an 
older  person’s  exaggerated  looking  back  towards  the  sexual 
valuation  of  youth,  is  an  undiscerning  and  often  cowardly 
and  convenient  retreat  from  a  duty  which  demands  the 
recognition  of  personal  values  and  his  own  enrolment  among 
the  ranks  of  the  priesthood  of  a  newer  civilisation.  The 
young  neurotic  shrinks  back  in  terror  from  the  extension  of 
his  tasks  in  life,  the  old  from  the  dwindling  and  shrinking 

of  the  treasures  he  has  attained. 

This  conception  of  the  transference  is,  you  will  have 
noted,  most  intimately  connected  with  the  acceptance  of  the 
idea  of  biological  “duties.”  By  this  term  you  must  under¬ 
stand  those  tendencies  or  motives  in  human  beings  giving 
rise  to  civilisation,  as  inevitably  as  in  the  bird  they  give  rise 
to  the  exquisitely  woven  nest,  and  in  the  stag  to  the  produc¬ 
tion  of  antlers.  The  purely  causal,  not  to  say  materialistic 
conception  of  the  immediately  preceding  decades,  would  con¬ 
ceive  the  organic  formation  as  the  reaction  of  living  matter, 
and  this  doubtless  provides  a  position  heuristically  useful, 
but,  as  far  as  any  real  understanding  goes,  leads  only  to  a 
more  or  less  ingenious  and  apparent  reduction  and  postpone¬ 
ment  of  the  problem.  Let  me  refer  you  to  Bergson’s 
excellent  criticism  of  this  conception.  From  external  forces 


SOME  CEUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  275 


but  half  the  result,  at  most,  could  ensue ;  the  other  half  lies 
within  the  individual  disposition  of  the  living  material, 
without  which  it  is  obvious  the  specific  reaction-formation 
could  never  be  achieved.  This  principle  must  be  applied 
also  in  psychology.  The  psyche  does  not  only  react;  it  also 
gives  its  own  individual  reply  to  the  influences  at  work  upon 
it,  and  at  least  half  the  resulting  configuration  and  its  exist¬ 
ing  disposition  is  due  to  this.  Civilisation  is  never,  and  again 
never,  to  be  regarded  as  merely  reaction  to  environment. 
That  shallow  explanation  we  may  abandon  peacefully  to  the 
past  century.  It  is  just  these  very  dispositions  which  we 
must  regard  as  imperative  in  the  psychological  sphere ;  it 
is  easy  to  get  convincing  proof  daily  of  their  compulsive 
power.  What  I  call  “biological  duty” is  identical  with  these 
dispositions. 

In  conclusion,  I  must  deal  with  a  matter  which  seems 
to  have  caused  you  uneasiness,  namely,  the  moral  question. 
Among  our  patients  we  see  many  so-called  immoral  ten¬ 
dencies,  therefore  the  thought  involuntarily  forces  itself  upon 
the  psychotherapist  as  to  how  things  would  go  if  all  these 
desires  were  to  be  gratified.  You  will  have  discerned  already 
from  my  earlier  letters  that  these  desires  must  not  be 
estimated  too  literally.  As  a  rule  it  is  rather  a  matter  of 
unmeasured  and  exaggerated  demands,  arising  out  of  the 
patient’s  stored-up  libido,  which  have  usurped  a  prominent 
position,  usually  quite  against  his  own  wish.  In  most  cases 
the  canalisation  of  the  libido  for  the  fulfilment  of  life’s 
simple  duties,  suffices  to  reduce  these  exaggerated  desires 
to  zero.  But  in  some  cases  it  must  be  recognised  that  such 
“immoral”  tendencies  are  in  no  way  removed  by  analysis; 
on  the  contrary,  they  appear  more  often  and  more  clearly, 
hence  it  becomes  plain  that  they  belong  to  the  individual’s 
biological  duties*  And  this  is  particularly  true  of  certain 
sexual  claims,  whose  aim  is  an  individual  valuation  of 
sexuality.  This  is  not  a  question  for  pathology,  it  is  a 
social  question  of  to-day  which  peremptorily  demands  an 
ethical  solution.  For  many  it  is  a  biological  duty  to  work 
for  the  solution  of  this  question,  to  discover  some  sort  of 


276 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


practical  solution.  (Nature,  it  is  well  known,  does  not  con¬ 
tent  herself  with  theories.)  To-day  we  have  no  real  sexual 
morality,  only  a  legal  attitude  towards  sexuality ;  just  as  the 
early  Middle  Ages  had  no  genuine  morality  for  financial 
transactions,  but  only  prejudices  and  a  legal  standpoint.  We 
are  not  yet  sufficiently  advanced  in  the  domain  of  free  sexual 
activity  to  distinguish  between  a  moral  and  an  immoral 
relationship.  We  have  a  clear  expression  of  this  in  the 
customary  treatment,  or  rather  ill-treatment,  of  unmarried 
motherhood.  For  a  great  deal  of  sickening  hypocrisy,  for 
the  high  tide  of  prostitution,  and  for  the  prevalence  of  sexual 
diseases,  we  may  thank  both  our  barbarous,  undifferentiated 
legal  judgments  about  the  sexual  situation,  and  our  inability 
to  develop  a  finer  moral  perception  of  the  immense  psychologic 
differences  that  may  exist  in  free  sexual  activity. 

This  reference  to  the  existence  of  an  exceedingly  com¬ 
plicated  and  significant  problem,  may  suffice  to  explain  why 
we  by  no  means  seldom  meet  with  individuals  among  our 
patients  who  are  quite  specially  called,  because  of  their 
spiritual  and  social  gifts,  to  take  an  active  part  in  the  work 
of  civilisation — for  this  they  are  biologically  destined.  We 
must  never  forget  that  what  to-day  is  deemed  a  moral  law 
will  to-morrow  be  cast  into  the  melting-pot  and  transformed, 
so  that  in  the  near  or  distant  future  it  may  serve  as  the 
basis  of  a  new  ethical  structure.  This  much  we  ought  to 
have  learnt  from  the  history  of  civilisation,  that  the  forms 
of  morality  belong  to  the  category  of  transitory  things. 
The  finest  psychological  tact  is  required  with  these  critical 
natures,  so  that  the  dangerous  corners  of  infantile  irrespon¬ 
sibility,  indolence  and  uncontrolledness  may  be  turned,  and 
a  pure,  untroubled  vision  of  the  possibility  of  a  moral 
autonomous  activity  made  possible.  Five  per  cent,  on 
money  lent  is  fair  interest,  twenty  per  cent,  is  despicable 
usury.  That  point  of  view  we  have  to  apply  equally  to 
the  sexual  situation. 

So  it  comes  about  that  there  are  many  neurotics  whose 
innermost  delicacy  of  feeling  prevents  their  being  at  one 
with  present-day  morality,  and  they  cannot  adapt  themselves 


SOME  CBUCIAL  POINTS  IN  PSYCHOANALYSIS  277 

to  civilisation  as  long  as  their  moral  code  has  gaps  in 
it,  the  filling  up  of  which  is  a  crying  need  of  the  age. 
We  deceive  ourselves  greatly  if  we  suppose  that  many 
mariied  women  are  neurotic  only  because  they  are  un¬ 
satisfied  sexually  or  because  they  have  not  found  the  right 
man,  or  because  they  still  have  a  fixation  to  their  infantile 
sexuality.  The  real  ground  of  the  neurosis  is,  in  many 
cases,  the  inability  to  recognise  the  work  that  is  waiting 
foi  them,  of  helping  to  build  up  a  new  civilisation.  We 
are  all  far  too  much  at  the  standpoint  of  the  “nothing- 
but  psychology ;  we  persist  in  thinking  we  can  squeeze 
the  new  future  which  is  pressing  in  at  the  door,  into  the 
framework  of  the  old  and  the  known.  And  thus  the  view  is 
only  of  the  present,  never  of  the  future.  But  it  was  of  most 
profound  psychological  significance  when  Christianity  first 
discovered,  in  the  orientation  towards  the  future,  a  redeem¬ 
ing  principle  for  mankind.  In  the  past  nothing  can  be 
altered,  and  in  the  present  little,  but  the  future  is  ours  and 
capable  of  raising  life’s  intensity  to  its  highest  pitch.  A 
little  space  of  youth  belongs  to  us,  all  the  rest  of  life 
belongs  to  our  children. 

Thus  does  your  question  as  to  the  significance  of  the 
loss  of  faith  in  authority  answer  itself.  The  neurotic  is  ill 
not  because  he  has  lost  his  old  faith,  but  because  he  has  not 
yet  found  a  new  form  for  his  finest  aspirations. 


CHAPTER  X 


ON  THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  THE  UNCONSCIOUS 
IN  PSYCHOPATHOLOGY1 

When  we  speak  of  a  thing  as  being  “  unconscious  ”  we  must 
not  forget  that  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  functioning  of 
the  brain  a  thing  may  be  unconscious  to  us  in  two  ways— 
physiologically  or  psychologically.  I  shall  only  deal  with 
the  subject  from  the  latter  point  of  view.  So  that  for  our 
purposes  we  may  define  the  unconscious  as  “  the  sum  of  all 
those  psychological  events  which  are  not  apperceived,  and  so 
are  unconscious.” 

The  unconscious  contains  all  those  psychic  exents  whic  , 
because  of  the  lack  of  the  necessary  intensity  of  their  func¬ 
tioning,  are  unable  to  pass  the  threshold  which  divides  the 
conscious  from  the  unconscious ;  so  that  they  remain  in 
effect  below  the  surface  of  the  conscious,  and  flit  by  in 
subliminal  phantom  forms. 

It  has  been  known  to  psychologists  since  the  time  of 
Leibniz  that  the  elements— that  is  to  say,  the  ideas  and 
feelings  which  go  to  make  up  the  conscious  mind,  the  so- 
called  conscious  content — are  of  a  complex  nature,  and  rest 
upon  far  simpler  and  altogether  unconscious  elements ;  it  is 
the  combination  of  these  which  gives  the  element  of  conscious¬ 
ness.  Leibniz  has  already  mentioned  the  perceptions  insen- 
sibles — those  vague  perceptions  which  Kant  called  shadowy 
representations,  which  could  only  attain  to  consciousness  in 
an  indirect  manner.  Later  philosophers  assigned  the  first 
place  to  the  unconscious,  as  the  foundation  upon  which  the 
conscious  was  built. 

1  Paper  given  before  the  Section  of  Neurology  and  Psychological  Medicine, 
Aberdeen,  1914.  Reprinted  from  the  British  Medical  Journal ,  by  kind  per¬ 
mission  of  the  Editor,  Dr.  Dawson  Williams. 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS  IN  PSYCHOPATHOLOGY  279 


But  this  is  not  the  place  to  consider  the  many  speculative 
theories  nor  the  endless  philosophical  discussions  concerning 
the  nature  and  quality  of  the  unconscious.  We  must  be 
satisfied  with  the  definition  already  given,  which  will  prove 
quite  sufficient  for  our  purpose,  namely  the  conception  of  the 
unconscious  as  the  sum  of  all  psychical  processes  below  the 
threshold  of  consciousness. 

The  question  of  the  importance  of  the  unconscious  for 
psychopathology  may  be  briefly  put  as  follows :  “  In  what 
manner  may  we  expect  to  find  unconscious  psychic  material 
behave  in  cases  of  psychosis  and  neurosis  ?  ” 

In  order  to  get  a  better  grasp  of  the  situation  in  con¬ 
nexion  with  mental  disorders,  we  may  profitably  consider 
first  how  unconscious  psychic  material  behaves  in  the  case 
of  normal  people, especially  trying  to  visualize  what  in  normal 
men  is  apt  to  be  unconscious.  As  a  preliminary  to  this 
knowledge  we  must  get  a  complete  understanding  of  what  is 
contained  in  the  conscious  mind ;  and  then,  by  a  process  of 
elimination  we  may  expect  to  find  what  is  contained  in  the 
unconscious,  for  obviously — per  exclusionem — what  is  in  the 
conscious  cannot  be  unconscious.  For  this  purpose  we 
examine  all  activities,  interests,  passions,  cares,  and  joys, 
which  are  conscious  to  the  individual.  All  that  we  are  thus 
able  to  discover  becomes,  ipso  facto,  of  no  further  moment  as 
a  content  of  the  unconscious,  and  we  may  then  expect  to  find 
only  those  things  contained  in  the  unconscious  which  we  have 
not  found  in  the  conscious  mind. 

Let  us  take  a  concrete  example :  A  merchant,  who  is 
happily  married,  father  of  two  children,  thorough  and  pains¬ 
taking  in  his  business  affairs,  and  at  the  same  time  trying  in 
a  reasonable  degree  to  improve  his  position  in  the  world, 
carries  himself  with  self-respect,  is  enlightened  in  religious 
matters,  and  even  belongs  to  a  society  for  the  discussion  of 
liberal  ideas. 

What  can  we  reasonably  consider  to  be  the  content  of  the 
unconscious  in  the  case  of  such  an  individual  ? 

Considered  from  the  above  theoretical  standpoint,  every¬ 
thing  in  the  personality  that  is  not  contained  in  the  conscious 


280 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


mind  should  be  found  in  the  unconscious.  Let  us  agree, 
then,  that  this  man  consciously  considers  himself  to  possess 
all  the  fine  attributes  we  have  just  described — no  more,  no 
less.  Then  it  must  obviously  result  that  he  is  entirely 
unaware  that  a  man  may  be  not  merely  industrious,  thorough, 
and  painstaking,  but  that  he  may  also  be  careless,  indifferent, 
untrustworthy;  for  some  of  these  last  attributes  are  the 
common  heritage  of  mankind  and  may  be  found  to  be 
an  essential  component  of  every  character.  This  worthy 
merchant  forgets  that  quite  recently  he  allowed  several  letters 
to  remain  unanswered  which  he  could  easily  have  answered 
at  once.  He  forgets,  too,  that  he  failed  to  bring  a  book 
home  which  his  wife  has  asked  him  to  get  at  the  book-stall, 
where  she  had  previously  ordered  it,  although  he  might 
easily  have  made  a  note  of  her  wish.  But  such  occurrences 
are  common  with  him.  Therefore  we  are  obliged  to  conclude 
that  he  is  also  lazy  and  untrustworthy.  He  is  convinced 
that  he  is  a  thoroughly  loyal  subject ;  but  for  all  that  he 
failed  to  declare  the  whole  of  his  income  to  the  assessor,  and 
when  they  raise  his  taxes,  he  votes  for  the  Socialists. 

He  believes  himself  to  be  an  independent  thinker,  yet  a 
little  while  back  he  undertook  a  big  deal  on  the  Stock  Ex¬ 
change,  and  when  he  came  to  enter  the  details  of  the  trans¬ 
action  in  his  books  he  notices  with  considerable  misgivings 
that  it  fell  upon  a  Friday,  the  13th  of  the  month.  There¬ 
fore,  he  is  also  superstitious  and  not  free  in  his  thinking. 

So  here  we  are  not  at  all  surprised  to  find  these  com¬ 
pensating  vices  to  be  an  essential  content  of  the  uncon¬ 
scious.  Obviously,  therefore,  the  reverse  is  true — namely, 
that  unconscious  virtues  compensate  for  conscious  de¬ 
ficiencies.  The  law  which  ought  to  follow  as  the  result  of 
such  deductions  would  appear  to  be  quite  simple — to  wit, 
the  conscious  spendthrift  is  unconsciously  a  miser ;  the 
philanthropist  is  unconsciously  an  egoist  and  misanthrope. 
But,  unfortunately,  it  is  not  quite  so  easy  as  that,  although 
there  is  a  basis  of  truth  in  this  simple  rule.  For  there  are 
essential  hereditary  dispositions  of  a  latent  or  manifest 
nature  which  upset  the  simple  rule  of  compensation,  and 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS  IN  PSYCHOPATHOLOGY  281 


which  vary  greatly  in  individual  cases.  From  entirely 
different  motives  a  man  may,  for  instance,  be  a  philan¬ 
thropist,  but  the  manner  of  his  philanthropy  depends  upon 
his  originally  inherited  disposition,  and  the  way  in  which  the 
philanthropic  attitude  is  compensated  depends  upon  his 
motives.  It  is  not  sufficient  simply  to  know  that  a  certain 
person  is  philanthropic  in  order  to  diagnose  an  unconscious 
egoism.  For  we  must  also  bring  to  such  a  diagnosis  a  careful 
study  of  the  motives  involved. 

In  the  case  of  normal  people  the  principal  function  of  the 
unconscious  is  to  effect  a  compensation  and  thus  produce  a 
balance.  All  extreme  conscious  tendencies  are  softened  and 
toned  down  through  an  effective  opposite  impulse  in  the  un¬ 
conscious.  This  compensating  agency,  as  I  have  tried  to 
show  in  the  case  of  the  merchant,  maintains  itself  through 
certain  unconscious,  inconsequent  activities,  as  it  were,  which 
Freud  has  very  well  described  as  symptomatic  acts  ( Symptom - 
handlungen ). 

To  Freud  we  owe  thanks  also  for  having  called  attention 
to  the  importance  of  dreams,  for  by  means  of  them,  also,  we 
are  able  to  learn  much  about  this  compensating  function. 
There  is  a  fine  historical  example  of  this  in  the  well- 
known  dream  of  Nebuchadnezzar  in  the  fourth  chapter  of 
the  Book  of  Daniel,  where  Nebuchadnezzar  at  the  height 
of  his  power  had  a  dream  which  foretold  his  downfall.  He 
dreamed  of  a  tree  which  had  raised  its  head  even  up  to 
heaven  and  now  must  be  hewn  down.  This  is  a  dream 
which  is  obviously  a  counterpoise  to  the  exaggerated  feeling 
of  royal  power. 

Now  considering  states  in  which  the  mental  balance  is 
disturbed,  we  can  easily  see,  from  what  has  preceded,  wherein 
lies  the  importance  of  the  unconscious  for  psychopathology. 
Let  us  ponder  the  question  of  where  and  in  what  manner 
the  unconscious  manifests  itself  in  abnormal  mental  condi¬ 
tions.  The  way  in  which  the  unconscious  works  is  most 
clearly  seen  in  disturbances  of  a  psychogenic  nature,  such  as 
hysteria,  compulsion  neurosis,  etc. 

We  have  known  for  a  long  time  that  certain  symptoms 


282 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


of  these  disturbances  are  produced  by  unconscious  psychic 
events.  Just  as  clear,  but  less  recognised,  are  the  mani¬ 
festations  of  the  unconscious  in  actually  insane  patients. 
As  the  intuitive  ideas  of  normal  men  do  not  spring  from 
logical  combinations  of  the  conscious  mind,  so  the  halluci¬ 
nations  and  delusions  of  the  insane  arise,  not  out  of  conscious 
but  out  of  unconscious  processes. 

Formerly,  when  we  held  a  more  materialistic  view  of 
psychiatry  we  were  inclined  to  believe  that  all  delusions,  hal¬ 
lucinations,  stereotypic  acts,  etc.,  were  provoked  by  morbid 
processes  in  the  brain  cells.  Such  a  theory,  however,  ignores 
that  delusions,  hallucinations,  etc.,  are  also  to  be  met  with  in 
certain  functional  disturbances,  and  not  only  in  the  case  of 
functional  disturbances,  but  also  in  the  case  of  normal  people. 
Primitive  people  may  have  visions  and  hear  strange  voices 
without  having  their  mental  processes  at  all  disturbed.  To 
seek  to  ascribe  symptoms  of  that  nature  directly  to  a  disease 
of  the  brain  cells  I  hold  to  be  superficial  and  unwarranted. 
Hallucinations  show  very  plainly  how  a  part  of  the  uncon¬ 
scious  content  can  force  itself  across  the  threshold  of  the 
conscious.  The  same  is  true  of  a  delusion  whose  appearance 
is  at  once  strange  and  unexpected  by  the  patient. 

The  expression  “mental  balance”  is  no  mere  figure  of 
speech,  for  its  disturbance  is  a  real  disturbance  of  that  equi¬ 
librium  which  actually  exists  between  the  unconscious  and 
conscious  content  to  a  greater  extent  than  has  heretofore 
been  recognised  or  understood.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  amounts 
to  this — that  the  normal  functioning  of  the  unconscious 
processes  breaks  through  into  the  conscious  mind  in  an 
abnormal  manner,  and  thereby  disturbs  the  adaptation  of 
the  individual  to  his  environment. 

If  we  study  attentively  the  history  of  any  such  person 
coming  under  our  observation,  we  shall  often  find  that  he  has 
been  living  for  a  considerable  time  in  a  sort  of  peculiar 
individual  isolation,  more  or  less  shut  off  from  the  world 
of  reality.  This  constrained  condition  of  aloofness  may  be 
traced  back  to  certain  innate  or  early  acquired  peculiarities, 
which  show  themselves  in  the  events  of  his  life.  For  instance, 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS  IN  PSYCHOPATHOLOGY  283 


in  the  histories  of  those  suffering  from  dementia  prsecox  we 
often  hear  such  a  remark  as  this :  “  He  was  always  of  a 
pensive  disposition,  and  much  shut  up  in  himself.  After  his 
mother  died  he  cut  himself  off  still  more  from  the  world, 
shunning  his  friends  and  acquaintances.”  Or  again,  we  may 
hear,  “  Even  as  a  child  he  devised  many  peculiar  inventions  ; 
and  later,  when  he  became  an  engineer,  he  occupied  himself 
with  most  ambitious  schemes.” 

Without  discussing  the  matter  further  it  must  be  plain 
that  a  counterpoise  is  produced  in  the  unconscious  as  a 
compensation  to  the  one-sidedness  of  the  conscious  attitude. 
In  the  first  case  we  may  expect  to  find  an  increasing 
pressing  forward  in  the  unconscious,  of  a  wish  for  human 
intercourse,  a  longing  for  mother,  friends,  relations ;  while 
in  the  second  case  self-criticism  will  try  to  establish  a  correct¬ 
ing  balance.  Among  normal  people  a  condition  never 
arises  so  one-sided  that  the  natural  corrective  tendencies  of 
the  unconscious  entirely  lose  their  value  in  the  affairs  of 
everyday  life  ;  but  in  the  case  of  abnormal  people,  it  is 
eminently  characteristic  that  the  individual  entirely  fails  to 
recognise  the  compensating  influences  which  arise  in  the 
unconscious.  He  even  continues  to  accentuate  his  one-sided¬ 
ness  ;  this  is  in  accord  with  the  well-known  psychological 
fact  that  the  worst  enemy  of  the  wolf  is  the  wolf-hound, 
the  greatest  despiser  of  the  negro  is  the  mulatto,  and  that 
the  biggest  fanatic  is  the  convert ;  for  I  should  be  a  fanatic 
were  I  to  attack  a  thing  outwardly  which  inwardly  I  am 
obliged  to  concede  as  right. 

The  mentally  unbalanced  man  tries  to  defend  himself 
against  his  own  unconscious,  that  is  to  say,  he  battles  against 
his  own  compensating  influences.  The  man  already  dwelling 
in  a  sort  of  atmosphere  of  isolation,  continues  to  remove  him¬ 
self  further  and  further  from  the  world  of  reality,  and  the 
ambitious  engineer  strives  by  increasingly  morbid  exaggera¬ 
tions  of  invention  to  disprove  the  correctness  of  his  own  com¬ 
pensating  powers  of  self-criticism.  As  a  result  of  this  a 
condition  of  excitation  is  produced,  from  which  results  a 
great  lack  of  harmony  between  the  conscious  and  unconscious 


284 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


attitudes.  The  pairs  of  opposites  are  torn  asunder,  the  result¬ 
ing  division  or  strife  leads  to  disaster,  for  the  unconscious  soon 
begins  to  intrude  itself  violently  upon  the  conscious  processes. 
Then  odd  and  peculiar  thoughts  and  moods  supervene,  and 
not  infrequently  incipient  forms  of  hallucination,  which 
clearly  bear  the  stamp  of  the  internal  conflict. 

These  corrective  impulses  or  compensations  which  now 
break  through  into  the  conscious  mind,  should  theoretically 
be  the  beginning  of  the  healing  process,  because  through 
them  the  previously  isolated  attitude  should  apparently 
be  relieved.  But  in  reality  this  does  not  result,  for  the 
leason  that  the  unconscious  corrective  impulses  which  thus 
succeed  in  making  themselves  apparent  to  the  conscious 
mind,  do  so  in  a  form  that  is  altogether  unacceptable  to 
consciousness. 

The  isolated  individual  begins  to  hear  strange  voices,  which 
accuse  him  of  murder  and  all  sorts  of  crimes.  These  voices 
drive  him  to  desperation  and  in  the  resulting  agitation  he 
attempts  to  get  into  contact  with  the  surrounding  milieu,  and 
does  what  he  formerly  had  anxiously  avoided.  The  com¬ 
pensation,  to  be  sure,  is  reached,  but  to  the  detriment  of  the 
individual. 

The  pathological  inventor,  who  is  unable  to  profit  by  his 
previous  failures,  by  refusing  to  recognise  the  value  of  his 
own  self-criticism,  becomes  the  creator  of  still  more  pre¬ 
posterous  designs.  He  wishes  to  accomplish  the  impossible  but 
falls  into  the  absurd.  After  a  while  he  notices  that  people  talk 
about  him,  make  unfavourable  remarks  about  him,  and  even 
scoff  at  him.  He  believes  a  far-reaching  conspiracy  exists  to 
frustrate  his  discoveries  and  render  them  objects  of  ridicule. 
By  this  means  his  unconscious  brings  about  the  same  results 
that  his  self-criticism  could  have  attained,  but  again  only  to 
the  detriment  of  the  individual,  because  the  criticism  is 
projected  into  his  surroundings. 

An  especially  typical  form  of  unconscious  compensation — 
to  give  a  further  example — is  the  paranoia  of  the  alcoholic. 
The  alcoholic  loses  his  love  for  his  wife  ;  the  unconscious 
compensation  tries  to  lead  him  back  again  to  his  duty,  but 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS  IN  PSYCHOPATHOLOGY  285 


only  partially  succeeds,  for  it  causes  him  to  become  jealous 
of  his  wife  as  if  he  still  loved  her.  As  we  know,  he  may 
even  go  so  far  as  to  kill  both  his  wife  and  himself,  merely 
out  of  jealousy.  In  other  words,  his  love  for  his  wife  has  not 
been  entirely  lost,  it  has  simply  become  subliminal;  but  from 
the  realm  of  the  unconscious  it  can  now  only  reappear  in  the 
form  of  jealousy. 

We  see  something  of  a  similar  nature  in  the  case  of 
religious  converts.  One  who  turns  from  protestantism  to 
Catholicism  has,  as  is  well  known,  the  tendency  to  be  some¬ 
what  fanatical.  His  protestantism  is  not  entirely  re¬ 
linquished,  but  has  merely  disappeared  into  the  unconscious, 
where  it  is  constantly  at  work  as  a  counter-argument  against 
the  newly  acquired  Catholicism.  Therefore  the  new  convert 
feels  himself  constrained  to  defend  the  faith  he  has  adopted 
in  a  more  or  less  fanatical  way.  It  is  exactly  the  same  in 
the  case  of  the  paranoiac,  who  feels  himself  constantly  con¬ 
strained  to  defend  himself  against  all  external  criticism, 
because  his  delusional  system  is  too  much  threatened  from 
within. 

The  strange  manner  in  which  these  compensating  in¬ 
fluences  break  through  into  the  conscious  mind,  derives  its 
peculiarities  from  the  fact  that  they  have  to  struggle  against 
the  resistances  already  existing  in  the  conscious  mind,  and 
therefore  present  themselves  to  the  patient’s  mind  in  a 
thoroughly  distorted  manner.  And  secondly,  these  com¬ 
pensating  equivalents  are  obliged  necessarily  to  present 
themselves  in  the  language  of  the  unconscious — that  is,  in 
material  of  a  heterogeneous  and  subliminal  nature.  For 
all  the  material  of  the  conscious  mind  which  is  of  no 
further  value,  and  can  find  no  suitable  employment,  becomes 
subliminal,  such  as  all  those  forgotten  infantile  and  phantastic 
creations  that  have  ever  entered  the  heads  of  men,  of  which 
only  the  legends  and  myths  still  remain.  For  certain  reasons 
which  I  cannot  discuss  further  here,  this  latter  material  is 
frequently  found  in  dementia  praecox. 

I  hope  I  may  have  been  able  to  give  in  this  brief  con¬ 
tribution,  which  I  feel  to  be  unfortunately  incomplete,  a 


286 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


glimpse  of  the  situation  as  it  presents  itself  to  me  of  the 
importance  of  the  unconscious  in  psychopathology.  It  would 
be  impossible  in  a  short  discourse  to  give  an  adequate  idea 
of  all  the  work  that  has  already  been  done  in  this  field. 

To  sum  up,  I  may  say  that  the  function  of  the  uncon¬ 
scious  in  conditions  of  mental  disturbance,  is  essentially  a 
compensation  of  the  content  of  the  conscious  mind.  But 
because  of  the  characteristic  condition  of  one-sidedness  of  the 
conscious  striving  in  all  such  cases,  the  compensating 
correctives  are  rendered  useless.  It  is,  however,  inevitable 
that  these  unconscious  tendencies  break  through  into  the 
conscious  mind,  but  in  adapting  themselves  to  the  character 
of  the  one-sided  conscious  aims,  it  is  only  possible  for  them 
to  appear  in  a  distorted  and  unacceptable  form. 


CHAPTER  XI 


A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE  STUDY  OF  PSYCHO¬ 
LOGICAL  TYPES1 

It  is  well  known  that  in  their  general  physiognomy  Hysteria 
and  Dementia  Prsecox  present  a  striking  contrast,  which  is 
seen  particularly  in  the  attitude  of  the  sufferers  towards 
the  external  world.  The  reactions  provoked  in  the  hysteric 
surpass  the  normal  level  of  intensity  of  feeling,  whilst  this 
level  is  not  reached  at  all  by  the  precocious  dement.  The 
picture  presented  by  these  contrasted  illnesses  is  one  of 
exaggerated  emotivity  in  the  one,  and  extreme  apathy  in 
the  other,  with  regard  to  the  environment.  In  their  personal 
relations  this  difference  is  very  marked.  Abstraction  creates 
some  exceptions  here,  for  we  remain  in  affective  rapport  with 
our  hysterical  patients,  which  is  not  the  case  in  dementia 
prsecox. 

The  opposition  between  these  two  nosological  types  is 
also  seen  in  the  rest  of  their  symptomatology.  From  the 
intellectual  point  of  view  the  products  of  hysterical  imagina¬ 
tion  may  be  accounted  for  in  a  very  natural  and  human  way 
in  each  individual  case  by  the  antecedents  and  individual 
history  of  the  patient ;  while  the  inventions  of  the  precocious 
dement,  on  the  contrary,  are  more  nearly  related  to  dreams 
than  to  normal  consciousness,  and  they  display  moreover  an 
incontestably  archaic  tendency,  wherein  mythological  crea¬ 
tions  of  primitive  imagination  are  more  in  evidence  than  the 
personal  memories  of  the  patient.  From  the  physical  point 
of  view  we  do  not  find  in  dementia  prsecox  those  symptoms 

1  Delivered  at  the  Psychoanalytical  Congress,  Munich,  1918.  Translated 
from  Archives  de  Psychologie,  by  kind  permission  of  the  Editor,  Dr. 
Claparede. 


288 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


so  common  in  the  hysteric,  which  simulate  well  known  or 
severe  organic  affections. 

All  this  clearly  indicates  that  hysteria  is  characterised 
by  a  centrifugal  tendency  of  the  libido,1  whilst  in  dementia 
praecox  its  tendency  is  centripetal.  The  reverse  occurs, 
however,  where  the  illness  has  fully  established  its  com¬ 
pensatory  effects.  In  the  hysteric  the  libido  is  always 
hampered  in  its  movements  of  expansion  and  forced  to 
regress  upon  itself ;  one  observes  that  such  individuals  cease 
to  partake  in  the  common  life,  are  wrapped  up  in  their 
phantasies,  keep  their  beds,  or  are  unable  to  live  outside 
their  sick-rooms,  etc.  The  precocious  dement,  on  the  contrary, 
during  the  incubation  of  his  illness  turns  away  from  the 
outer  world  in  order  to  withdraw  into  himself;  but  when  the 
period  of  morbid  compensation  arrives,  he  seems  constrained 
to  draw  attention  to  himself,  and  to  force  himself  upon  the 
notice  of  those  around  him,  by  his  extravagant,  insupport¬ 
able,  or  directly  aggressive  conduct. 

I  propose  to  use  the  terms  “Extraversion  ”  and  “  Intro¬ 
version  ”  to  describe  these  two  opposite  directions  of  the 
libido,  further  qualifying  them,  however,  as  “  regressive  ”  in 
morbid  cases  where  phantasies,  fictions,  or  phantastic  inter¬ 
pretations,  inspired  by  emotivity,  falsify  the  perceptions  of 
the  subject  about  things,  or  about  himself.  We  say  that  he 
is  extraverted  when  he  gives  his  fundamental  interest  to  the 
outer  or  objective  world,  and  attributes  an  all-important  and 
essential  value  to  it :  he  is  introverted,  on  the  contrary,  when 
the  objective  world  suffers  a  sort  of  depreciation,  or  want  of 
consideration,  for  the  sake  of  the  exaltation  of  the  individual 
himself,  who  then  monopolising  all  the  interest,  grows  to 
believe  no  one  but  himself  worthy  of  consideration.  I  will 
call  4 'regressive  extraversion”  the  phenomenon  which  Ereud 

1  In  Freud’s  writings  the  term  “libido”  has  always  a  sexual  meaning. 
But  it  is  well  known  that  Jung  has  restored  to  this  term  its  classical  meaning 
of  desire  or  passion  in  general.  He  has  pointed  out  recently  that  we  might, 
following  Clapar^de’s  proposal,  translate  it  by  the  word  “  interest.”  We  have 
preferred  in  the  present  translation  to  keep  to  the  term  “  libido  ”  to  express 
the  instinctive  psychological  effort,  the  Alan  vital ,  the  joy  of  living,  the  funda¬ 
mental  interest  of  the  individual,  etc.  See  page  231. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  TYPES 


289 


calls  “transference”  (Ubertragung),  by  which  the  hysteric 
projects  into  the^objective  world  the  illusions,  or  subjective 
values  of  his  feelings.  In  the  same  way  I  shall  call  “  regres¬ 
sive  introversion,”  the  opposite  pathological  phenomenon 
which  we  find  in  dementia  praecox,  where  the  subject  himself 
suffers  these  phantastical  transfigurations. 

It  is  obvious  that  these  two  contrary  movements  of  the 
libido,  as  simple  psychic  mechanisms,  may  play  a  part  alter¬ 
nately  in  the  same  individual,  since  after  all  they  serve  the 
same  purpose  by  different  methods — namely,  to  minister  to  his 
well-being.  Freud  has  taught  us  that  in  the  mechanism  of 
hysterical  transference  the  individual  aims  at  getting  rid  of 
disagreeable  memories  or  impressions,  in  order  to  free  himself 
from  painful  complexes,  by  a  process  of  “  repression.”  Con¬ 
versely  in  the  mechanism  of  introversion,  the  personality 
tends  to  concentrate  itself  upon  its  complexes,  and  with  them, 
to  isolate  itself  from  external  reality,  by  a  process  which  is 
not  properly  speaking  “  repression,”  but  which  would  be  better 
rendered  perhaps  by  the  term  “  depreciation  ”  (Entwertung) 
of  the  objective  world. 

The  existence  of  two  mental  affections  so  opposite  in 
character  as  hysteria  and  dementia  praecox,  in  which  the 
contrast  rests  on  the  almost  exclusive  supremacy  of  extra¬ 
version  or  introversion,  suggests  that  these  two  psychological 
types  may  exist  equally  well  in  normal  persons,  who  may  be 
characterised  by  the  relative  predominance  of  one  or  other 
of  the  two  mechanisms.  Psychiatrists  know  very  well  that 
before  either  illness  is  fully  declared,  patients  already  present 
the  characteristic  type,  traces  of  which  are  to  be  found  from 
the  earliest  years  of  life.  As  Binet  pointed  out  so  well,  the 
neurotic  only  accentuates  and  shews  in  relief  the  characteristic 
traits  of  his  personality.  One  knows,  of  course,  that  the 
hysterical  character  is  not  simply  the  product  of  the  illness, 
but  pre-existed  it  in  a  measure.  And  Hoch  has  shown  by 
his  researches  into  the  histories  of  his  dementia  praecox 
patients,  that  this  is  also  the  case  with  them ;  dissociations 
or  eccentricities  were  present  before  the  onset  of  the  illness. 

If  this  is  so,  one  may  certainly  expect  to  meet  the  same 

19 


290 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


contrast  between  psychological  temperaments  outside  the 
sphere  of  pathology.  It  is  moreover  easy  to  cull  from  litera¬ 
ture  numerous  examples  which  bear  witness  to  the  actual 
existence  of  these  two  opposite  types  of  mentality.  Without 
pretending  to  exhaust  the  subject,  I  will  give  a  few  striking 
examples. 

In  my  opinion,  we  owe  the  best  observations  on  this 
subject  to  the  philosophy  of  William  James.1  He  lays  down 
the  principle  that  no  matter  what  may  be  the  temperament 
of  a  “  professional  philosopher,”  it  is  this  temperament  which 
he  feels  himself  forced  to  express  and  to  justify  in  his  philo¬ 
sophy.  And  starting  from  this  idea,  which  is  altogether 
in  accord  with  the  spirit  of  psychoanalysis,  divides  philo¬ 
sophers  into  two  classes  :  the  “  Tender-minded,”  who  are  only 
interested  in  the  inner  life  and  spiritual  things ;  and  the 
“  Tougli-minded,”  who  lay  most  stress  on  material  things 
and  objective  reality.  We  see  that  these  two  classes  are 
actuated  by  exactly  opposite  tendencies  of  the  libido  :  the 
“  tender-minded”  represent  introversion,  the  “tough-minded  ” 
extraversion. 

James  says  that  the  tender-minded  are  characterised  by 
rationalism ;  they  are  men  of  principles  and  of  systems, 
they  aspire  to  dominate  experience  and  to  transcend  it  by 
abstract  reasoning,  by  their  logical  deductions,  and  purely 
rational  conceptions.  They  care  little  for  facts,  and  the 
multiplicity  of  phenomena  hardly  embarrasses  them  at  all : 
they  forcibly  fit  data  into  their  ideal  constructions,  and 
reduce  everything  to  their  a  priori  premises.  This  was  the 
method  of  Hegel  in  settling  beforehand  the  number  of 
the  planets.  In  the  domain  of  mental  pathology  we  again 
meet  this  kind  of  philosopher  in  paranoiacs,  who,  without 
being  disquieted  by  the  flat  contradictions  presented  by  ex¬ 
perience,  impose  their  delirious  conceptions  on  the  universe, 
and  find  means  of  interpreting  everything,  and  according  to 
Adler  “  arranging  ”  everything,  in  conformity  with  their 
morbidly  preconceived  system. 

The  other  traits  which  James  depicts  in  this  type  follow 

1  “  Pragmatism,”  Chapter  I. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  TYPES 


291 


naturally  from  its  fundamental  character.  The  tender- 
minded  man,  he  says,  is  intellectual,  idealist,  optimist, 
religious,  partisan  of  free-will,  a  monist,  and  a  dogmatist. 
All  these  qualities  betray  the  almost  exclusive  concentration  of 
the  libido  upon  the  intellectual  life.  This  concentration  upon 
the  inner  world  of  thought  is  nothing  else  than  introversion. 
In  so  far  as  experience  plays  a  role  with  these  philosophers, 
it  serves  only  as  an  allurement  or  fillip  to  abstraction,  in 
response  to  the  imperative  need  to  fit  forcibly  all  the  chaos 
of  the  universe  within  well-defined  limits,  which  are,  in 
the  last  resort,  the  creation  of  a  spirit  obedient  to  its 
subjective  values. 

The  tough-minded  man  is  positivist  and  empiricist.  He 
regards  only  matters  of  fact.  Experience  is  his  master,  his 
exclusive  guide  and  inspiration.  It  is  only  empirical  pheno¬ 
mena  demonstrable  in  the  outside  world  which  count.  Thought 
is  merely  a  reaction  to  external  experience.  In  the  eyes  of 
these  philosophers  principles  are  never  of  such  value  as 
facts ;  they  can  only  reflect  and  describe  the  sequence  of 
phenomena  and  cannot  construct  a  system.  Thus  their 
theories  are  exposed  to  contradiction  under  the  overwhelm¬ 
ing  accumulation  of  empirical  material.  Psychic  reality  for 
the  positivist  limits  itself  to  the  observation  and  experience 
of  pleasure  and  pain ;  he  does  not  go  beyond  that,  nor  does 
he  recognise  the  rights  of  philosophical  thought.  Remain¬ 
ing  on  the  ever-changing  surface  of  the  phenomenal  world, 
he  partakes  himself  of  its  instability ;  carried  away  in  the 
chaotic  tumult  of  the  universe,  he  sees  all  its  aspects,  all 
its  theoretical  and  practical  possibilities,  but  he  never 
arrives  at  the  unity  or  the  fixity  of  a  settled  system,  which 
alone  could  satisfy  the  idealist  or  tender-minded.  The  posi¬ 
tivist  depreciates  all  values  in  reducing  them  to  elements 
lower  than  themselves ;  he  explains  the  higher  by  the  lower, 
and  dethrones  it,  by  showing  that  it  is  “  nothing  but  such 
another  thing,”  which  has  no  value  in  itself. 

From  these  general  characteristics,  the  others  which 
James  points  out  logically  follow.  The  positivist  is  a  sen¬ 
sualist,  giving  greater  value  to  the  specific  realm  of  the 


•292 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


senses  than  to  reflection  which  transcends  it.  He  is  a 
materialist  and  a  pessimist,  for  he  knows  only  too  well  the 
hopeless  uncertainty  of  the  course  of  things.  He  is  irre¬ 
ligious,  not  being  in  a  state  to  hold  firmly  to  the  realities 
of  the  inner  world  as  opposed  to  the  pressure  of  external 
facts;  he  is  a  determinist  and  fatalist,  only  able  to  show  ' 
resignation ;  a  pluralist,  incapable  of  all  synthesis ;  and 
finally  a  sceptic,  as  a  last  and  inevitable  consequence  of  all 
the  rest. 

The  expressions,  therefore,  used  by  James,  show  clearly 
that  the  diversity  of  types  is  the  result  of  a  different  localisa¬ 
tion  of  the  libido  ;  this  libido  is  the  magic  power  in  the  depth 
of  our  being,  which,  following  the  personality,  carries  it  some¬ 
times  towards  internal  life,  and  sometimes  towards  the  objec¬ 
tive  world.  James  compares,  for  example,  the  religious 
subjectivism  of  the  idealist,  and  the  quasi-religious  attitude 
of  the  contemporary  empiricist :  “  Our  exteem  for  facts  has 
not  neutralised  in  us  all  religiousness.  It  is  itself  almost 
religious.  Our  scientific  temper  is  devout.” 1 

A  second  parallel  is  furnished  by  Wilhelm  Ostwald,2 
who  divides  “  savants  ”  and  men  of  genius  into  classics  and 
romantics.  The  latter  are  distinguished  by  their  rapid 
reactions,  their  extremely  prompt  and  abundant  production 
of  ideas  and  projects,  some  of  which  are  badly  digested  and  of 
doubtful  value.  They  are  admirable  and  brilliant  masters, 
loving  to  teach,  of  a  contagious  ardour  and  enthusiasm, 
which  attracts  many  pupils,  and  makes  them  founders  of 
schools,  exercising  great  personal  influence.  Herein  our 
type  of  extraversion  is  easily  recognised.  The  classics  of 
Ostwald  are,  on  the  contrary,  slow  to  react;  they  produce 
with  much  difficulty,  are  little  capable  of  teaching  or  of 
exercising  direct  personal  influence,  and  lacking  enthusiasm 
are  paralysed  by  their  own  severe  criticism,  living  apart  and 
absorbed  in  themselves,  making  scarcely  any  disciples,  but 

1  “  Pragmatism,”  ch.  i.,  p.  14. 

2  W.  Ostwald  “  Grosse  Manner,”  Leipzig,  1910  (11th  Lecture,  “  Classics 
and  Romanticists  ”).  See  also  his  contribution,  “  A  propos  de  la  Biologie  du 
Savant,”  Bibliotheque  Universelle,  Oct.,  1910. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  TYPES 


293 


producing  works  of  finished  perfection  which  often  bring 
them  posthumous  tame.  All  these  characteristics  correspond 
to  introversion. 

We  find  a  further  very  valuable  example  in  the  aesthetic 
theory  of  Warringer.  Borrowing  from  A.  Riegl  his  expression 
Volonte  d’art  absolue  ”  to  express  the  internal  force  which 
inspiies  the  artist,  he  distinguishes  two  forms,  viz.  sympathy 
(Einfiihlung)  and  abstraction  ;  and  the  term  which  he  employs 
indicates  that  here,  too,  we  witness  the  activity  of  the 
push  of  the  libido,  the  stirring  of  the  elan  vital.  t(  In  the 
same  way,  says  Warringer,  “as  the  sympathetic  impulse 
finds  its  satisfaction  in  organic  beauty,  so  abstract  impulse 
discovers  beauty  in  the  inorganic,  which  is  the  negation  of  all 
life,  in  crystallised  forms,  and  in  a  general  manner  wherever 
the  severity  of  abstract  law  reigns.”  Whilst  sympathy  repre¬ 
sents  the  warmth  of  passion  which  carries  it  into  the  presence 
of  the  object  in  order  to  assimilate  it  and  penetrate  it  with 
emotional  values  ;  abstraction,  on  the  other  hand,  despoils  the 
object  of  all  that  could  recall  life,  and  grasps  it  by  purely 
intellectual  thought,  crystallised  and  fixed  into  the  rigid 
forms  of  law, — the  universal,  the  typical.  Bergson  also  makes 
use  of  these  images  of  crystallisation,  solidification,  etc.,  to 
illustrate  the  essence  of  intellectual  abstraction. 

Warringer  s  Abstraction  represents  the  process  which 
I  have  already  remarked  as  a  consequence  of  introversion, 
namely,  the  exaltation  of  the  intellect,  in  the  place  of  the 
depreciated  reality  of  the  external  world.  “  Sympathy  ”  corre¬ 
sponds  in  fact  to  extraversion,  for,  as  Lipps  has  pointed  out, 

“  What  1  perceive  sympathetically  in  an  object  is,  in  a 
general  manner  life,  and  life  is  power,  internal  work,  effort, 
and  execution.  To  live,  in  a  word,  is  to  act,  and  to  act 
is  to  experience  intimately  the  force  which  we  give  out ; 
experience  creates  activity,  which  is  essentially  of  a  spon¬ 
taneous  character.”  “^Esthetic  enjoyment,”  said  Warrin- 
ger,  “  is  ^ the  enjoyment  of  one’s  own  self  projected  into  the 
“  object,”  a  formula  which  corresponds  absolutely  with  our 
definition  of  transference.  This  aesthetic  conception  does  not 
refer  to  the  positivist  in  James’s  sense;  it  is  rather  the  attitude 


294 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


of  the  idealist  for  whom  psychological  reality  only  is  interest¬ 
ing,  and  worthy  of  consideration.  Warringer  adds,  “  what  is 
essential  lies  not  in  the  gradation  of  the  feeling,  but  pre¬ 
eminently  in  the  feeling  itself ;  that  is  to  say,  the  inner  move¬ 
ment,  the  intimate  life,  the  unfolding  of  the  Subject’s  own 
activity ;  the  value  of  a  line  or  of  a  form,  depends  in  our 
eyes  on  the  biological  value  it  holds  for  us ;  that  which  gives 
beauty  is  solely  our  own  vital  feeling,  which  we  unconsciously 
project  into  it.”  This  view  corresponds  exactly  with  my  own 
way  of  understanding  the  theory  of  the  libido,  in  attempting 
to  keep  the  true  balance  between  the  two  psychological 
opposites  of  introversion  and  extraversion. 

The  polar  opposite  of  sympathy  is  abstraction.  The 
impulse  of  abstraction  is  conceived  by  Warringer  “  as  the 
result  of  a  great  internal  conflict  of  the  human  soul  in 
the  presence  of  the  external  world,  and  from  the  religious 
standpoint,  it  corresponds  to  a  strong  transcendental  colouring 
of  all  the  representations  man  has  made  to  himself  of  reality.” 
We  recognise  clearly  in  this  definition  the  primordial  tendency 
to  introversion.  To  the  introverted  type  the  universe  does 
not  appear  beautiful  and  desirable,  but  disquieting,  and  even 
dangerous ;  it  is  a  manifestation  against  which  the  subject  puts 
himself  on  the  defensive ;  he  entrenches  himself  in  his  inner 
fastness,  and  fortifies  himself  therein  by  the  invention  of 
geometrical  figures,  full  of  repose,  perfectly  clear  even  in 
their  minutest  details,  the  primitive  magic  power  of  which 
assures  him  of  domination  over  the  surrounding  world. 

“  The  need  of  abstraction  is  the  origin  of  all  art,”  says 
Warringer.  Here  is  a  great  principle,  which  gains  weighty 
confirmation  from  the  fact  that  precocious  dements  reproduce 
forms  and  figures  which  present  the  closest  analogy  to  those 
of  primitive  humanity,  not  only  in  their  thoughts  but  also 
in  their  drawings. 

We  should  recall  that  Schiller  had  already  tried  to 
formulate  the  same  presentation  in  what  he  calls  the  Naive 
and  Sentimental  types.  The  latter  is  in  quest  of  nature,  whilst 
the  former  is  itself  “  all  nature.”  Schiller  also  saw  that 
these  two  types  result  from  the  predominance  of  psychological 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  TYPES 


295 


mechanisms  which  might  be  met  with  in  one  and  the  same 
individual.  “It  is  not  only  in  the  same  poet,”  he  said,  “but 
even  in  the  same  work  that  these  two  types  of  mentality  are 
found  united.  .  .  .  The  naive  poet  pursues  only  nature  and 
feeling  in  their  simplicity,  and  all  his  effort  is  limited  to  the 
imitation  and  reproduction  of  reality.  The  sentimental  poet, 
on  the  contrary,  reflects  the  impression  he  receives  from 
objects.  The  object  here  is  allied  to  an  idea,  and  the  poetic 
power  of  the  work  depends  on  this  alliance.”  These  quotations 
shew  what  types  Schiller  had  in  view,  and  one  recognises 
their  fundamental  identity  with  those  with  which  we  are 
here  dealing. 

We  find  another  instance  in  Nietzsche’s  contrast  between 
the  minds  of  Apollo  and  of  Dionysus.  The  example  which 
Nietzsche  uses  to  illustrate  this  contrast  is  instructive — 
namely,  that  between  a  dream  and  intoxication.  In  a  dream 
the  individual  is  shut  up  in  himself,  in  intoxication,  on  the 
contrary,  he  forgets  himself  to  the  highest  degree,  and,  set 
free  from  his  self-consciousness,  plunges  into  the  multiplicity 
of  the  objective  world.  To  depict  Apollo,  Nietzsche  borrows 
the  words  of  Schopenhauer,  “  As  upon  a  tumultuous  sea, 
which  disgorges  and  swallows  by  turns,  lost  to  view  in  the 
mountains  of  foaming  waves,  the  mariner  remains  seated 
tranquilly  on  his  plank,  full  of  confidence  in  his  frail  barque ; 
so  individual  man,  in  a  world  of  troubles,  lives  passive  and 
serene,  relying  with  confidence  on  the  principle  of  ‘  indi¬ 
viduation.’”  “Yes,”  continues  Nietzsche,  “we  might  say 
that  the  unshakeable  confidence  in  this  principle,  and  the 
calm  security  of  those  whom  it  has  inspired,  have  found 
in  Apollo  their  most  sublime  expression,  and  we  may  always 
recognise  in  him  the  most  splendid  and  divine  personifica¬ 
tion  of  the  principle  of  making  an  individual.”  The  Apollien 
state,  as  Nietzsche  conceives  it,  is  consequently  the  with¬ 
drawal  into  oneself,  that  is,  introversion.  Conversely  in  the 
Dionysian  state,  psychic  intoxication,  indicates  in  his  view  the 
unloosening  of  a  torrent  of  libido  which  expends  itself  upon 
things.  “  This  is  not  only,”  says  Nietzsche,  “  the  alliance 
of  man  with  man,  which  finds  itself  confirmed  afresh  under 


296 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


the  Dionysian  enchantment;  it  is  alienated  Nature,  hostile 
or  enslaved,  which  also  celebrates  her  reconciliation  with  her 
prodigal  child, — man.  Spontaneously  Earth  offers  her  gifts 
and  the  wild  beasts  from  rock  and  desert  draw  near  peace¬ 
fully.  The  car  of  Dionysus  is  lost  under  flowers  and  garlands  ; 
panthers  and  tigers  approach  under  his  yoke.” 

If  we  change  Beethoven’s  “Hymn  of  Praise  ”  into  a  picture, 
and  giving  rein  to  our  imagination,  contemplate  the  millions 
of  beings  prostrated  and  trembling  in  the  dust,  at  such  a 
moment  the  Dionysian  intoxication  will  be  near  at  hand. 
Then  is  the  slave  free  ;  then  all  the  rigid  and  hostile  barriers 
which  poverty  and  arbitrary  or  insolent  custom  have  estab¬ 
lished  between  man  and  man  are  broken  down.  Now,  by 
means  of  this  gospel  of  universal  harmony,  each  feels  him¬ 
self  not  only  reunited,  reconciled,  fused  with  his  neighbour, 
but  actually  identified  with  him,  as  if  the  veil  of  “  Mai'a  was 
torn  away,  nothing  remaining  of  it  but  a  few  shreds  floating 
before  the  mystery  of  the  Primordial  Unity.”  1  It  would  be 
superfluous  to  add  comment  to  these  quotations. 

In  concluding  this  series  of  examples  culled  outside  my 
own  special  domain,  I  will  quote  the  linguistic  hypothesis  of 
Finck,2  where  we  also  see  the  duality  in  question.  The 
structure  of  language,  according  to  Finck,  presents  two 
principal  types  :  in  one  the  subject  is  generally  conceived  as 
active  :  “  I  see  him,”  “  I  strike  him  down ;  ”  in  the  other  the 
subject  experiences  and  feels,  and  it  is  the  object  which  acts : 
“  He  appears  to  me,”  “  He  succumbs  to  me.”  The  first  type 
clearly  shews  the  libido  as  going  out  of  the  subject, — this 
is  a  centrifugal  movement ;  the  second  as  coming  out  of  the 
object, — this  movement  is  centripetal.  We  meet  with  this 
latter  introverted  type  especially  in  the  primitive  languages 
of  the  Esquimaux. 

In  the  domain  of  Psychiatry  also  these  two  types  have 
been  described  by  Otto  Gross,3  who  distinguishes  two  forms 


1  Nietzsche,  “  The  Birth  of  Tragedy,”  trans.  Wm.  A.  Haussmann. 

2  Finck,  “Der  deutsche  Sprachbon  als  Aus  druck,  deutscher  Weltan¬ 
schauung.  ”  Marburg,  1899. 

3  Gross,  “  Die  zerebrale  Sekundarfonktion.”  Leipsig,  1902. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  TYPES 


297 


of  mental  debility :  the  one  a  diffuse  and  shallow  conscious¬ 
ness,  the  other  a  concentrated  and  deep  consciousness.  The 
first  is  characterised  by  weakness  of  the  consecutive  function, 
the  second  by  its  excessive  reinforcement.  Gross  has  recog¬ 
nised  that  the  consecutive  function  is  in  intimate  relation 
with  affectivity,  from  which  we  might  infer  that  he  is  dealing 
once  more  with  our  two  psychological  types.  The  relation  he 
establishes  between  maniac  depressive  insanity  and  the  state 
of  diffuse  or  extended  and  shallow  mental  disease  shows  that 
the  latter  represents  the  extraverted  type ;  and  the  relation 
between  the  psychology  of  the  paranoiac  and  repressed 
mentality,  indicates  the  identity  of  the  former  with  the  in¬ 
troverted  type. 

After  the  foregoing  considerations  no  one  will  be  astonished 
to  find  that  in  the  domain  of  psychoanalysis  we  also  have 
to  reckon  with  the  existence  of  these  two  psychological  types. 

On  the  one  side  we  meet  with  a  theory  which  is  essentially 
reductive,  pluralist,  causal  and  sensualist ;  this  is  Freud’s 
standpoint.  This  theory  limits  itself  rigidly  to  empirical 
facts,  and  traces  back  complexes  to  their  antecedents  and 
their  elemental  factors.  It  regards  the  psychological  life  as 
being  only  an  effect,  a  reaction  to  the  environment,  and 
accords  the  greatest  role  and  the  largest  place  to  sensa¬ 
tion.  On  the  other  side  we  have  the  diametrically  opposed 
theory  of  Adler 1  which  is  an  entirely  philosophical  and 
finalistic  one.  In  it  phenomena  are  not  reducible  to  earlier 
and  very  primitive  factors,  but  are  conceived  as  “  arrange¬ 
ments,”  the  outcome  of  intentions  and  of  ends  of  an  extremely 
complex  nature.  It  is  no  longer  the  view  of  causality  but 
of  finality  which  dominates  researches  :  the  history  of  the 
patient  and  the  concrete  influences  of  the  environment  are 
of  much  less  importance  than  the  dominating  principles,  the 
“fictions  directrices,”  of  the  individual.  It  is  not  essential 
for  him  to  depend  upon  the  object,  and  to  find  in  it  his  fill  of 
subjective  enjoyment,  but  to  protect  his  own  individuality 
and  to  guarantee  it  against  the  hostile  influences  of  the 
environment. 

1  Adler,  “  Uber  den  nervosen  Charakter.”  Wiesbaden,  1912. 


298 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


Whilst  Freud’s  psychology  has  for  its  predominant  note 
the  centrifugal  tendency,  which  demands  its  happiness  and 
satisfaction  in  the  objective  world,  in  that  of  Adler  the  chief 
role  belongs  to  the  centripetal  movement,  which  tends  to 
the  supremacy  of  the  subject,  to  his  triumph  and  his  liberty, 
as  opposed  to  the  overwhelming  forces  of  existence.  The 
expedient  to  which  the  type  described  by  Freud  has  recourse 
is  “  infantile  transference,”  by  means  of  which  he  projects 
phantasy  into  the  object  and  finds  a  compensation  for  the 
difficulties  of  life  in  this  transfiguration.  In  the  type  de¬ 
scribed  by  Adler  what  is  characteristic  is,  on  the  contrary,  the 
“  virile  protest,”  personal  resistance,  the  efficacious  safe¬ 
guard  which  the  individual  provides  for  himself,  in  affirming 
and  stubbornly  enclosing  himself  in  his  dominating  ideas. 

The  difficult  task  of  elaborating  a  psychology  which  should 
pay  equal  attention  to  the  two  types  of  mentality  belongs  to 
the  future. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  DREAMS1 

A  dream  is  a  psychic  structure  which  at  first  sight  appears 
to  be  in  striking  contrast  with  conscious  thought,  because 
judging  by  its  form  and  substance,  it  apparently  does  not  lie 
within  the  continuity  of  development  of  the  conscious  con¬ 
tents,  it  is  not  integral  to  it,  but  is  a  mere  external  and 
apparently  accidental  occurrence.  Its  mode  of  genesis  is  in 
itself  sufficient  to  isolate  a  dream  from  the  other  contents  of 
the  conscious,  for  it  is  a  survival  of  a  peculiar  psychic  activity 
which  takes  place  during  sleep,  and  does  not  originate  in  the 
manifest  and  clearly  logical  and  emotional  continuity  of  the 
event  experienced. 

But  a  careful  observer  should  have  no  difficulty  in  dis¬ 
covering  that  a  dream  is  not  entirely  severed  from  the  con¬ 
tinuity  of  the  conscious,  for  in  almost  every  dream  certain 
details  are  found  which  have  their  origin  in  the  impressions, 
thoughts,  or  states  of  mind  of  one  of  the  preceding  days.  In 
so  far  a  certain  continuity  does  exist,  albeit  a  retrograde  one. 
But  any  one  keenly  interested  in  the  dream  problem  cannot 
have  failed  to  observe  that  a  dream  has  also  a  progressive 
continuity — if  such  an  expression  be  permitted — since  dreams 
occasionally  exert  a  remarkable  influence  upon  the  conscious 
mental  life,  even  of  persons  who  cannot  be  considered  super¬ 
stitious  or  particularly  abnormal.  These  occasional  after¬ 
effects  are  usually  seen  in  a  more  or  less  distinct  change  in 
the  dreamer’s  frame  of  mind. 

It  is  probably  in  consequence  of  this  loose  connection 
with  the  other  conscious  contents,  that  the  recollected  dream 

1  This  lecture  was  prepared  for  the  Berne  Medical  Congress,  1914,  post¬ 
poned  on  the  outbreak  of  war. 


300 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


is  so  extremely  unstable.  Many  dreams  baffle  all  attempts 
at  reproduction,  even  immediately  after  waking,  others  can 
only  be  remembered  with  doubtful  accuracy,  and  compara¬ 
tively  few  can  be  termed  really  distinct  and  clearly  repro- 
duceable.  This  peculiar  reaction  with  regard  to  recollection 
may  be  understood  by  considering  the  characteristics  of  the 
various  elements  combined  in  a  dream.  The  combination  of 
ideas  in  dreams  is  essentially  phantastic ,  they  are  linked 
together  in  a  sequence  which,  as  a  rule,  is  quite  foreign  to 
our  current  way  of  thinking,  and  in  striking  contrast  to  the 
logical  sequence  of  ideas  which  we  consider  to  be  a  special 
characteristic  of  conscious  mental  processes. 

It  is  to  this  characteristic  that  dreams  owe  the  common 
epithet  of  “meaningless.”  Before  pronouncing  this  verdict, 
we  must  reflect  that  dreams  and  their  chain  of  ideas  are 
something  that  we  do  not  understand.  Such  a  verdict  would 
therefore  be  merely  a  projection  of  our  non-comprehension 
upon  its  object.  But  that  would  not  prevent  its  own  peculiar 
meaning  being  inherent  in  a  dream. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  for  centuries  an  endeavour  has 
been  made  to  extract  a  prophetic  meaning  from  dreams, 
Freud’s  discovery  is  practically  the  first  attempt  to  find  their 
real  significance.  His  work  merits  the  term  “  scientific,” 
because  this  investigator  has  evolved  a  technique  which,  not 
only  he,  but  many  other  investigators  also  assert,  achieves 
its  object,  namely,  the  understanding  of  the  meaning  of  the 
dream.  This  meaning  is  not  identical  with  the  one  to  which 
the  manifest  dream  content  makes  fragmentary  allusion. 

This  is  not  the  place  for  a  critical  discussion  of  Freud’s 
psychology  of  dreams.  But  I  will  try  to  give  a  brief  summary 
of  what  may  be  regarded  as  more  or  less  established  facts  of 
dream  psychology  to-day. 

The  first  question  we  must  discuss  is,  whence  do  we  deduce 
the  justification  for  attributing  to  dreams  any  other  signifi¬ 
cation  than  the  unsatisfying  fragmentary  meaning  of  the 
manifest  dream  content  ? 

As  regards  this  point  a  particularly  weighty  argument  is 
the  fact  that  Freud  discovered  the  hidden  meaning  of  dreams 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  DREAMS 


801 


by  empiric  and  not  deductive  methods.  A  further  argument 
in  favour  of  a  possible  hidden,  as  opposed  to  the  manifest 
meaning  of  dreams,  is  obtained  by  comparing  dream-phan¬ 
tasies  with  other  phantasies  (day-dreams  and  the  like)  in  one 
and  the  same  individual.  It  is  not  difficult  to  conceive  that 
such  day-phantasies  have  not  merely  a  superficial,  concre- 
tistical  meaning,  but  also  a  deeper  psychological  meaning. 
It  is  solely  on  account  of  the  brevity  that  I  must  impose  upon 
myself,  that  I  do  not  submit  materials  in  proof  of  this.  But 
I  should  like  to  point  out  that  what  may  be  said  about  the 
meaning  of  phantasies,  is  well  illustrated  by  an  old  and 
widely  diffused  type  of  imaginative  story,  of  which  iEsop’s 
Fables  are  typical  examples,  wherein,  for  instance,  the  story 
is  some  objectively  impossible  phantasy  about  the  deeds  of 
a  lion  and  an  ass.  The  concrete  superficial  meaning  of  the 
fable  is  an  impossible  phantasm,  but  the  hidden  moral 
meaning  is  plainly  palpable  upon  reflection.  It  is  charac¬ 
teristic  of  children  that  they  are  pleased  and  satisfied  with 
the  exoteric  meaning  of  the  story.  But  by  far  the  best  argu¬ 
ment  for  the  existence  of  a  hidden  meaning  in  dreams,  is 
provided  by  the  conscientious  application  of  the  technical 
procedure  to  solve  the  manifest  dream  content. 

This  brings  us  to  our  second  main  point,  viz. — the  ques¬ 
tion  of  analytic  procedure.  Here  again  I  desire  neither  to 
defend  nor  to  criticise  Freud’s  views  and  discoveries,  but 
rather  to  confine  myself  to  what  seem  to  me  to  be  firmly 
established  facts. 

The  fact  that  a  dream  is  a  psychic  structure,  does  not 
give  us  the  slightest  ground  for  assuming  that  it  obeys  laws 
and  designs  other  than  those  applicable  to  any  other  psychic 
structure.  According  to  the  maxim :  principia  explicandi 
prater  necessitatem  non  sunt  multiplicand^  we  have  to  treat 
dreams  in  analysis  just  as  any  other  psychic  structure,  until 
experience  teaches  us  some  better  way. 

We  know  that  every  psychic  construction  considered 
from  the  standpoint  of  causality,  is  the  resultant  of  previous 
psychic  contents.  Moreover,  we  know  also  that  every  psychic 
structure,  considered  from  the  standpoint  of  finality  has  its 


302 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


own  peculiar  meaning  ancl  purpose  in  the  actual  psychic 
process.  This  standard  must  also  be  applied  to  dreams. 
When,  therefore,  we  seek  a  psychological  explanation  of  a 
dream,  we  must  first  know  what  were  the  preceding  experiences 
out  of  which  it  is  combined.  We  must  trace  the  antecedents 
of  every  point  in  the  dream  picture.  For  example  :  some 
one  dreams  “  that  he  is  walking  in  a  street ,  a  child  is  running 
in  front  of  him,  who  is  suddenly  run  over  by  a  motor-car .”  We 
will  trace  the  antecedents  of  this  dream-picture,  with  the 
aid  of  the  dreamer’s  recollections. 

He  recognises  the  street  as  one  down  which  he  had  walked 
on  the  previous  day.  The  child  he  acknowledges  as  his 
brother’s  child,  whom  he  had  seen  on  the  previous  evening 
when  visiting  his  brother.  The  motor  accident  reminds  him 
of  an  accident  that  had  actually  occurred  a  few  days  before, 
but  of  which  he  had  only  read  an  account  in  a  newspaper. 
Popular  opinion  is  known  to  be  satisfied  with  this  kind  of 
explanation.  People  say :  “  Oh,  that  is  why  I  dreamt  such 
and  such  a  thing !  ” 

Obviously  this  explanation  is  absolutely  unsatisfactory 
from  a  scientific  standpoint.  The  dreamer  walked  down 
many  streets  on  the  previous  day,  why  was  this  particular 
one  selected  ?  He  had  read  about  several  accidents,  why 
did  he  select  just  this  ?  The  mere  disclosure  of  an  antecedent 
is  by  no  means  sufficient;  for  a  plausible  determination 
of  the  dream  presentation  can  only  be  obtained  from  the 
competition  of  various  causae.  The  collection  of  additional 
material  proceeds,  according  to  the  principle  of  recollection 
that  has  been  called  the  Association  Method .  The  result, 
as  will  easily  be  understood,  is  the  admission  of  a  multi¬ 
farious  and  quite  heterogeneous  mass  of  material,  having 
apparently  nothing  in  common  but  the  fact  of  its  evident 
associative  connection  with  the  dream  contents,  otherwise  it 
could  not  have  been  reproduced  by  means  of  this  content. 

How  far  the  collection  of  such  material  should  go,  is  an 
important  question  from  the  technical  point  of  view.  Since 
the  entire  psychic  content  of  a  life  may  be  ultimately  dis¬ 
closed  from  any  single  starting  point,  theoretically  the  whole 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  DREAMS 


308 


previous  life-experience  might  be  found  in  every  dream.  But 
we  only  need  to  assemble  just  so  much  material  as  is  abso¬ 
lutely  necessary  in  order  to  comprehend  the  dream’s  meaning. 
The  limitation  of  the  material  is  obviously  an  arbitrary  pro¬ 
ceeding,  according  to  that  principle  of  Kant’s  which  defines 
to  comprehend  as  “to  perceive  to  the  extent  necessary  for  our 
purpose .”  For  instance,  when  undertaking  a  survey  of  the 
causae  of  the  French  Revolution,  we  could  in  amassing  our 
material  include  not  only  the  history  of  medieval  France  but 
also  that  of  Rome  and  Greece,  which  certainly  would  not  be 
“  necessary  for  our  purpose,”  for  we  can  comprehend  the 
historical  genesis  of  the  Revolution  just  as  well  from  much 
more  limited  material. 

Except  for  the  aforesaid  arbitrary  limitation,  the  col¬ 
lecting  of  material  lies  outside  the  investigator’s  discretion. 
The  material  gathered  must  now  be  sifted  and  examined, 
according  to  principles  which  are  always  applied  to  the 
examination  of  historical  or  any  other  experimental  scientific 
material.  The  method  is  an  essentially  comparative  one, 
which  obviously  cannot  be  applied  automatically,  but  is 
largely  dependent  upon  the  skill  and  aim  of  the  investigator. 

When  a  pyschological  fact  has  to  be  explained,  it  must 
be  remembered  that  psychological  data  necessitate  a  twofold 
point  of  view,  namely,  the  view  point  of  causality  and  of 
finality.  I  use  the  word  finality  intentionally,  in  order  to 
avoid  confusion  with  the  idea  “  teleology.”  I  use  finality 
to  denote  the  immanent  psychological  teleology.  In  so  far 
as  we  apply  the  view  point  of  causality  to  the  material  that 
has  been  associated  with  the  dream,  we  reduce  the  manifest 
dream  content  to  certain  fundamental  tendencies  or  ideas. 
These,  as  one  would  expect,  are  elementary  and  universal  in 
character. 

For  instance,  a  young  patient  dreams  as  follows  :  I  am 
standing  in  a  strange  garden ,  and  pluck  an  apple  from  a  tree. 
I  look  about  cautiously ,  to  make  sure  no  one  sees  me .” 

The  associated  dream  material  is  a  remembrance  of 
having  once,  when  a  boy,  plucked  a  couple  of  pears  sur¬ 
reptitiously  from  another  person’s  garden. 


304 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


The  feeling  of  having  a  bad  conscience,  which  is  a 
prominent  feature  in  the  dream,  reminds  him  of  a  situation 
he  experienced  on  the  previous  day.  He  met  a  young  lady 
in  the  street — a  casual  acquaintance — and  exchanged  a  few 
words  with  her.  At  that  moment  a  gentleman  passed  whom 
he  knew,  whereupon  our  patient  was  suddenly  seized  with 
a  curious  feeling  of  embarrassment,  as  if  he  had  done  some¬ 
thing  wrong.  He  associated  the  apple  with  the  scene  in 
Paradise,  together  with  the  fact  that  he  had  never  really 
understood  why  the  eating  of  the  forbidden  fruit  should  have 
been  fraught  with  such  dire  consequences  for  our  first  parents. 
This  had  always  made  him  feel  angry ;  it  seemed  to  him  an 
unjust  act  of  God,  for  God  had  made  men  as  they  were,  with 
all  their  curiosity  and  greed. 

Another  association  was,  that  sometimes  his  father  had 
punished  him  for  certain  things  in  a  way  that  seemed  to  him 
incomprehensible.  The  worst  punishment  had  been  bestowed 
after  he  had  secretly  watched  girls  bathing. 

That  led  up  to  the  confession  that  he  had  recently  begun 
a  love  affair  with  a  housemaid,  but  had  not  yet  carried  it 
through  to  a  conclusion.  On  the  night  before  the  dream  he 
had  had  a  rendezvous  with  her. 

Upon  reviewing  this  material  we  see  that  the  dream 
contains  a  very  transparent  reference  to  the  incident  of  the 
previous  day.  The  connecting  associative  material  shows 
that  the  apple  episode  is  palpably  meant  for  an  erotic  scene. 
For  various  other  reasons,  too,  it  may  be  considered  extremely 
probable  that  this  experience  of  the  previous  day  is  still 
operative  even  in  this  dream.  In  the  dream  the  young  man 
plucks  the  apple  of  Paradise,  which  in  reality  he  has  not  yet 
plucked.  The  remainder  of  the  material  associated  with  the 
dream  is  concerned  with  another  experience  of  the  previous 
day,  namely,  with  the  peculiar  feeling  of  a  bad  conscience, 
which  seized  the  dreamer  when  he  was  talking  to  his  casual 
lady  acquaintance  ;  this,  again,  was  connected  with  the  fall  of 
man  in  Paradise,  and  finally  with  an  erotic  misdemeanour  of 
his  childhood,  for  which  his  father  had  punished  him  severely. 
All  these  associations  are  linked  together  by  the  idea  of  guilt. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  DREAMS 


305 


In  the  first  place  we  will  consider  this  material  from 
Freud’s  point  of  causality;  in  other  words,  we  will  “inter¬ 
pret  ”  it,  to  use  Freud’s  expression.  A  wish  has  been  left 
unfulfilled  from  the  day  before  the  dream.  In  the  dream 
\  this  wish  is  realised  in  the  symbolical  apple  scene.  But  why 
is  this  realisation  disguised  and  hidden  under  a  symbolic 
image  instead  of  being  expressed  in  a  distinctly  sexual 
thought?  Freud  would  refer  to  the  unmistakable  sense  of 
guilt  shown  up  by  the  material,  and  say  the  morality  that 
has  been  inculcated  in  the  young  man  from  childhood 
is  bent  on  repressing  such  wishes,  and  to  that  end  brands 
the  natural  craving  as  immoral  and  reprehensible.  The 
suppressed  immoral  thought  can  therefore  only  achieve 
expression  by  means  of  a  symbol.  As  these  thoughts  are 
incompatible  with  the  moral  content  of  the  conscious  ego, 
a  psychic  factor  adopted  by  Freud,  called  the  Censor ,  prevents 
this  wish  from  passing  undisguised  into  consciousness. 

Reviewing  the  dream  from  the  standpoint  of  finality, 
which  I  contrast  with  that  of  Freud,  does  not— as  I  wish  to 
establish  explicitly — involve  a  denial  of  the  dream’s  causae, 
but  rather  a  different  interpretation  of  the  associative 
material  collected  around  the  dream.  The  material  facts 
remain  the  same,  but  the  standard  by  which  they  are 
measured  is  altered.  The  question  may  be  formulated 
simply  as  follows :  What  is  this  dream’s  purpose  ?  What 
should  it  effect  ?  These  questions  are  not  arbitrary,  in 
as  much  as  they  may  be  applied  to  every  psychic  activity. 
Everywhere  the  question  of  the  “why”  and  “wherefore” 
may  be  raised. 

It  is  clear  that  the  material  added  by  the  dream  to  the 
previous  day’s  erotic  experience,  chiefly  emphasises  the  sense 
of  guilt  in  the  erotic  act.  The  same  association  has  already 
been  shown  to  be  operative  in  another  experience  of  the 
previous  day  in  the  meeting  with  his  casual  lady  acquaint¬ 
ance,  when  the  feeling  of  a  bad  conscience  was  automatically 
and  inexplicably  aroused,  as  if,  in  that  instance,  too,  the 
young  man  had  done  something  wrong.  This  experience 
also  plays  a  part  in  the  dream,  which  is  even  intensified  by 

20 


306 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


the  association  of  additional,  appropriate  material ;  the 
erotic  experience  of  the  day  before  being  depicted  by  the 
story  of  the  Fall  which  was  followed  by  such  a  severe 
punishment. 

I  maintain  that  there  exists  in  the  dreamer  an  uncon¬ 
scious  propensity  or  tendency  to  conceive  his  erotic  experiences 
as  guilt .  It  is  most  characteristic  that  the  association  with 
the  Fall  of  Man  should  ensue,  the  young  man  having  never 
really  grasped  why  the  punishment  should  have  been  so 
drastic.  This  association  throws  light  upon  the  reasons 
why  the  dreamer  did  not  think  simply,  “I  am  doing  what 
is  not  right.”  Obviously  he  does  not  knoiv  that  he  might 
condemn  his  own  conduct  as  morally  wrong.  This  is 
actually  the  case.  His  conscious  belief  is  that  his  conduct 
does  not  matter  in  the  least,  morally,  as  all  his  friends  were 
acting  in  the  same  way ;  besides,  for  other  reasons,  too,  he 
is  unable  to  understand  why  such  a  fuss  should  be  made 
about  it. 

Whether  this  dream  should  be  considered  full,  or  void, 
of  meaning  depends  upon  a  very  important  question,  viz. 
whether  the  standpoint  of  morality,  handed  down  to  us 
through  the  ages  by  our  forefathers,  is  held  to  be  full  or 
void  of  meaning.  I  do  not  wish  to  wander  off  into  a  philoso¬ 
phical  discussion  of  this  question,  but  would  merely  observe 
that  mankind  must  obviously  have  had  very  good  reasons 
for  devising  this  morality,  otherwise  it  would  be  truly  in¬ 
comprehensible  why  such  restraints  should  be  imposed  upon 
one  of  man’s  strongest  cravings.  If  we  attach  due  value  to 
this  fact,  we  are  bound  to  pronounce  this  dream  to  be  full  of 
meaning,  for  it  reveals  to  the  young  man  the  necessity  of 
facing  his  erotic  conduct  boldly  from  the  view  point  of 
morality.  Even  quite  primitive  races  have  in  some  respects 
extremely  strict  legislation  concerning  sexuality.  This  fact 
proves  that  sexual  morality  in  particular  is  a  not-to-be- 
despised  factor  in  the  soul’s  higher  functions,  but  deserves 
to  be  taken  fully  into  account.  In  this  case  it  should  be 
added,  that  the  young  man — influenced  by  his  friends’ 
example  —  somewhat  thoughtlessly  let  himself  be  guided 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  DKEAMS 


307 


exclusively  by  bis  erotic  cravings,  unmindful  of  the  fact  that 
man  is  a  morally  responsible  being  and  must  perforce  submit 

voluntarily  or  involuntarily — to  a  morality  that  be  himself 
has  created. 

In  this  dream  we  can  discern  a  compensating  function  of 
the  unconscious,  consisting  in  the  fact  that  those  thoughts , 
propensities ,  and  tendencies  of  a  human  personality  which  in 
conscious  life  are  too  seldom  recognised ,  come  spontaneously  into 
action  in  the  sleeping  state ,  when  to  a  large  extent  the  conscious 
process  is  disconnected. 

m  Tiie  question  might  certainly  be  raised,  of  what  use  is 
this  to  the  dreamer  if  he  does  not  understand  the  dream  ? 

To  this  I  must  remark  that  to  understand  is  not  an 
exclusively  intellectual  process,  for — as  experience  proves — 
man  may  be  influenced — nay,  even  very  effectually  convinced 
—by  innumerable  things,  for  which  he  has  no  intellectual 
understanding.  I  will  merely  remind  my  readers  of  the 
efficacy  of  religious  symbols. 

The  example  given  above  might  suggest  the  thought  that 
the  function  of  dreams  should  be  understood  as  a  distinctly 
“  moral  ”  one.  Such  appears  to  be  the  case  in  the  afore¬ 
mentioned  specimen,  but  if  we  recall  the  formula  according 
to  which  dreams  contain  the  subliminal  materials  of  a  given 
moment,  we  cannot  speak  simply  of  a  “  moral  ”  function. 
For  it  is  worthy  of  note  that  the  dreams  of  those  persons 
whose  actions  are  morally  unexceptionable,  bring  materials  to 
light  that  might  well  be  characterised  as  “  immoral  ”  in  the 
current  meaning  of  that  term.  Thus  it  is  significant  that 
St.  Augustine  was  glad  that  God  did  not  hold  him  responsible 
for  his  dreams.  The  unconscious  is  the  unknown  of  a  given 
moment,  therefore  it  is  not  surprising  that  all  those  aspects 
that  are  essential  for  a  totally  different  point  of  view, 
should  be  added  by  dreams  to  the  conscious  psychological 
situation  of  a  given  moment.  It  is  evident  that  this  function 
of  dreams  signifies  a  psychological  adjustment,  a  compensa¬ 
tion  essential  for  properly  balanced  action.  In  the  conscious 
process  of  reflection  it  is  indispensable  that,  so  far  as  possible, 
we  should  realise  all  the  aspects  and  consequences  of  a 


308 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


problem,  in  order  fco  find  the  right  solution.  This  process 
is  continued  automatically  in  the  more  or  less  unconscious 
state  of  sleep,  wherever— as  our  previous  experience  seems 
to  show — all  those  other  points  of  view  occur  to  the  dreamer 
(at  least  by  way  of  allusion)  that  during  the  day  were  under¬ 
estimated  or  even  totally  ignored — in  other  words,  were 
comparatively  unconscious. 

As  regards  the  much-discussed  symbolism  of  dreams,  the 
value  attached  to  it  varies  according  to  whether  the  stand¬ 
point  of  causality  or  of  finality  is  adopted.  According  to 
Freud’s  causal  view  point  it  proceeds  from  a  craving ,  viz. 
from  the  suppressed  dream-wish.  This  craving  is  always 
somewhat  simple  and  primitive,  and  is  able  to  disguise  itself 
under  manifold  forms.  For  instance,  the  young  man  in 
question  might  just  as  well  have  dreamt  that  he  had  to  open 
a  door  with  a  key,  or  that  he  had  to  travel  by  aeroplane,  or 
that  he  was  kissing  his  mother,  etc.  From  this  standpoint 
all  those  things  would  have  had  the  same  meaning.  In  this 
way,  the  typical  adherents  of  Freud’s  school  have  come  to 
the  point  of  interpreting— to  give  a  gross  instance— almost 
all  long  objects  in  dreams  as  phallic  symbols. 

From  the  view-point  of  finality,  the  various  dream  pictures 
have  each  their  own  peculiar  value.  For  instance,  if  the 
young  man,  instead  of  dreaming  of  the  apple  scene,  had 
dreamt  he  had  to  open  a  door  with  a  key,  the  altered  dream 
picture  would  have  furnished  associative  material  of  an 
essentially  different  character;  that,  again,  would  have 
resulted  in  the  conscious  situation  being  supplemented  by 
associations  of  a  totally  different  kind  from  those  connected 
with  the  apple  scene.  From  this  point  of  view,  it  is  the 
diversity  of  the  dream’s  mode  of  expression  that  is  full  of 
meaning,  and  not  the  uniformity  in  its  significance.  The 
causal  view-point  tends  by  its  very  nature  towards  uniformity 
of  meaning,  that  is,  towards  a  fixed  significance  of  symbols. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  final  view-point  perceives  in  an 
altered  dream  picture,  the  expression  of  an  altered  psycho¬ 
logical  situation.  It  recognises  no  fixed  meaning  of  symbols. 
From  this  standpoint  all  the  dream  pictures  are  important 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  DREAMS 


309 


in  themselves,  each  one  having  a  special  significance  of  its 
own,  to  which  it  owes  its  inclusion  in  the  dream.  Keeping  to 
our  previous  example,  we  see  that  from  the  standpoint  of 
finality  the  symbol  in  this  dream  is  approximately  equivalent 
to  a  parable ;  it  does  not  conceal,  but  it  teaches.  The  apple 
scene  recalls  vividly  the  sense  of  guilt,  at  the  same  time 
disguising  the  real  deed  of  our  first  parents. 

It  is  obvious  we  reach  very  dissimilar  interpretations  of 
the  meaning  of  the  dream,  according  to  the  point  of  view 
adopted.  The  question  now  arises,  which  is  the  better  or 
truer  version  ?  After  all,  for  us  therapeuts  it  is  a  practical 
and  not  a  merely  theoretical  necessity  which  leads  us  to  seek 
for  some  comprehension  of  the  meaning  of  dreams.  In 
treating  our  patients  we  must  for  practical  reasons  endeavour 
to  lay  hold  of  any  means  that  will  enable  us  to  train  them 
effectually.  It  should  be  quite  evident  from  the  foregoing 
example,  that  the  material  associated  with  the  dream  has 
opened  up  a  question  calculated  to  make  many  matters  clear 
to  the  young  man,  which,  hitherto,  he  has  heedlessly  over¬ 
looked.  But  by  disregarding  these  things  he  was  really 
overlooking  something  in  himself,  for  he  possesses  a  moral 
standard  and  a  moral  need  just  like  any  other  man.  By 
trying  to  live  without  taking  this  fact  into  consideration, 
his  life  is  one-sided  and  incomplete,  so  to  say  inco-ordinate ; 
which  has  the  same  consequences  for  the  psychological  life 
as  a  one-sided  and  incomplete  diet  has  for  the  physical.  In 
order  to  develop  a  person’s  individuality  and  independence 
to  the  uttermost,  we  need  to  bring  to  fruition  all  those 
functions  that  have  hitherto  attained  but  little  conscious 
development  or  none  at  all.  In  order  to  achieve  this  aim, 
we  must  for  therapeutic  reasons  enter  into  all  those  un¬ 
conscious  aspects,  of  things  brought  forward  by  the  dream 
material.  This  makes  it  abundantly  clear  that  the  view¬ 
point  of  finality  is  singularly  important  as  an  aid  to  the 
practical  development  of  the  individual. 

The  view  point  of  causality  is  obviously  more  in  accord 
with  the  scientific  spirit  of  our  time,  with  its  strictly  causal- 
istic  reasoning.  Much  may  be  said  for  Freud’s  view  as  a 


310 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


scientific  explanation  of  dream  psychology.  But  I  must 
dispute  its  completeness,  for  the  psyche  cannot  be  conceived 
merely  from  the  causal  aspect,  but  necessitates  also  a  final 
view-point.  Only  a  combination  of  both  points  of  view  which 
has  not  yet  been  attained  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  scientific 
mind,  owing  to  great  difficulties  both  of  a  practical  and 
theoretical  nature — can  give  us  a  more  complete  conception 
of  the  essence  of  dreams. 

I  would  like  to  treat  briefly  of  some  further  problems 
of  dream  psychology,  that  border  on  the  general  discussion 
of  dreams.  Firstly,  as  to  the  classification  of  dreams ;  I 
do  not  wish  to  overestimate  either  the  practical  or  theoretical 
significance  of  this  question.  I  investigate  yearly  some  1500- 
2000  dreams,  and  this  experience  enables  me  to  state  that 
typical  dreams  actually  do  exist.  But  they  are  not  very 
frequent,  and  from  the  view-point  of  finality  they  lose  much 
of  the  importance  accorded  them  by  the  fixed  significance 
of  symbols  of  the  causal  view-point.  It  seems  to  me  that 
the  typical  themes  of  dreams  are  of  far  greater  importance, 
for  they  permit  of  a  comparison  with  the  themes  of  mythology. 
Many  of  these  mythological  themes— in  the  study  of  which 
Frobenius  has  rendered  notable  service — are  also  found  in 
dreams,  often  with  precisely  the  same  significance.  Un¬ 
fortunately  the  limited  time  at  my  disposal,  does  not  permit 
me  to  lay  detailed  materials  before  you  :  this  has  been  done 
elsewhere.1  But  I  desire  to  emphasise  the  fact  that  the 
comparison  of  the  typical  themes  of  dreams  with  those  of 
mythology  obviously  suggests  the  idea  (already  put  forward 
by  Nietzsche)  that  dream  thought  should  be  conceived  from 
a  phylogenetic  point  of  view  as  an  older  form  of  thought. 
Instead  of  multiplying  examples  in  explanation  of  my 
meaning,  I  will  briefly  refer  you  to  our  specimen  dream. 
As  you  remember,  that  dream  introduced  the  apple  scene 
as  a  typical  representation  of  erotic  guilt.  The  gist  ol  its 
purport  is  :  “  I  am  doing  wrong  in  acting  like  this.”  But 

1  “  The  Psychology  of  the  Unconscious  ”  (“  Wandlungen  und  Symbole  de 
Libido  ”).  Moffat,  Yard  &  Co. 


I 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  DREAMS 


811 


it  is  characteristic  that  a  dream  never  expresses  itself  in  this 
logically  abstract  way,  but  always  in  the  language  of  parable 
or  simile.  This  peculiarity  is  also  a  characteristic  feature 
of  primitive  languages,  whose  flowery  idioms  always  strike 
us.  If  you  call  to  mind  the  writings  of  ancient  literature 
—e.g.  the  language  of  simile  in  the  Bible — you  will  find  what 
nowadays  is  achieved  by  means  of  abstract  expressions,  could 
Vnew  only  be  attained  by  means  of  simile.  Even  such  a 
phil«pher  as  Plato  did  not  disdain  to  express  certain 
fundamental  ideas  by  means  of  simile. 

Jmt  as  the  body  bears  traces  of  its  phylogenetic  develop- 
mentjiso  also  does  the  human  mind.  There  is  therefore 
nothing  surprising  in  the  possibility  of  the  allegories  of  our 
dreams  'ieing  an  archaic  survival. 

At  tie  same  time  the  theft  of  the  apple  in  our  example 
is  a  typcal  theme  of  dreams,  often  recurring  with  various 
modificatons.  It  is  also  a  well-known  theme  in  mythology, 
and  is  f(und  not  only  in  the  story  of  Paradise,  but  in 
numerouf  myths  and  fables  of  all  ages  and  climes.  It  is 
one  of  th>se  universally  human  similes,  which  can  reappear 
in  any  oie,  at  any  time.  Thus,  dream  psychology  opens 
up  a  way  to  a  general  comparative  psychology,  from  which 
we  hope  tcgain  the  same  understanding  of  the  development 
and  struchre  of  the  human  soul,  as  comparative  anatomy 
has  given  is  concerning  the  human  body. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES 

Introduction  A 

My  short  sketch  on  the  Content  of  the  Psychoses  whicB  first 
appeared  in  the  series  of  “  Schriften  zur  Angewandten  Belen- 
kunde  ”  under  Freud’s  editorship  was  designed  to  g we  the 
non-professional  but  interested  public  some  insight  into  the 
psychological  point  of  view  of  recent  psychiatry.  I  chose 
by  way  of  example  a  case  of  the  mental  disorder  known  as 
Dementia  Prsecox,  which  Bleuler  calls  Schizophrenia.  Statis¬ 
tically  this  extensive  group  contains  by  far  the  largest 
number  of  cases  of  psychosis.  Many  psychiatrists  would 
prefer  to  limit  it,  and  accordingly  make  use  of  other  nomen¬ 
clature  and  classification.  From  the  psychological  stand¬ 
point  the  change  of  name  is  unimportant,  for  it  is  of  less 
value  to  know  what  a  thing  is  called  than  to  know  what  it  is. 
The  cases  of  mental  disorder  sketched  in  this  essay  belong  to 
well-known  and  frequently  occurring  types,  familiar  to  the 
alienist.  The  facts  will  not  be  altered  if  these  disorders  are 
called  by  some  other  name  than  dementia  praecox. 

I  have  presented  my  view  of  the  psychological  basis  in  a 
work 1  whose  scientific  validity  has  been  contested  upon  all 
sorts  of  grounds.  For  me  it  is  sufficient  justification  that  a 
psychiatrist  of  Bleuler’ s  standing  has  fully  accepted,  in  his 
great  monograph  on  the  disease,  all  the  essential  points  in 
my  work.  The  difference  between  us  is  as  to  the  question 
whether,  in  relation  to  the  anatomical  basis,  the  psychological 
disorders  should  be  regarded  as  primary  or  secondary.  The 

resolution  of  this  weighty  question  depends  upon  the  general 

> 

1  “The  Psychology  of  Dementia  Praecox,”  translated  by  Brill  and 
Peterson,  Monograph  Series  of  the  Journal  of  Nervous  and  Mental  Diseases. 
New  York. 


THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES 


813 


problem  as  to  whether  the  prevailing  dogma  in  psychiatry — 
“  disordersJof  the  mind  are  disorders  of  the  brain  ” — presents 
a  final  triSi  or  not.  This  dogma  leads  to  absolute  sterility 
as  soon  as  lniversal  validity  is  ascribed  to  it.  There  are  un¬ 
doubted  psychogenic  mental  diseases  (the  so-called  hysterical) 
which  are  properly  regarded  as  functional  in  contrast  with 
organic  disekses  which  rest  upon  demonstrable  anatomical 


changes.  Di 


sorders  of  the  brain  should  only  be  called 


organic  when  the  psychic  symptoms  depend  upon  an  un¬ 


doubtedly  pri 
prascox  this 
anatomical  c 
being  able  t 


mary  disease  of  the  brain.  Now  in  dementia 
is  by  no  means  a  settled  question.  Definite 
langes  are  present,  but  we  are  very  far  from 
relate  the  psychological  symptoms  to  these 
changes.  We|  have,  at  least,  positive  information  as  to  the 
functional  natlure  of  early  schizophrenic  conditions;  more¬ 
over  the  organic  character  of  paranoia  and  many  paranoid 
forms  is  still  in  great  uncertainty.  This  being  so  it  is  worth 
while  to  inquire  whether  manifestations  of  degeneration  could 
not  also  be  plrovoked  by  psychological  disturbance  of  func¬ 
tion.  Such  1m  idea  is  only  incomprehensible  to  those  who 
smuggle  materialistic  preconceptions  into  their  scientific 
theories.  This  ^question  does  not  even  rest  upon  some  funda¬ 
mental  and  arlbitrary  spiritualism,  but  upon  the  following 
simple  reflection!.  Instead  of  assuming  that  some  hereditary 
disposition,  or  A  toxaemia,  gives  rise  directly  to  organic  pro¬ 
cesses  of  disease*,  I  incline  to  the  view  that  upon  the  basis  of 
predisposition,  vlhose  nature  is  at  present  unknown  to  us, 
there  arises  a  ilion-adaptable  psychological  function  which 
can  proceed  to  Jlevelop  into  manifest  mental  disorder ;  this 
may  secondarily*  determine  organic  degeneration  with  its 
own  train  of  symlptoms.  In  favour  of  this  conception  is  the 
fact  that  we  haj^e  no  proof  of  the  primary  nature  of  the 
organic  disorder,!  but  overwhelming  proofs  exist  of  a  primary 
psychological  faJalt  in  function,  whose  history  can  be  traced 
back  to  the  patient’s  childhood.  In  perfect  agreement  with 
this  conception  ils  the  fact  that  analytic  practice  has  given 
us  experience  of  leases  where  patients  on  the  border-line  of 
dementia  praecox  Ihave  been  brought  back  to  normal  life. 


314 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


Even  if  anatomical  leisons  or  organic  symtotoms  were 
constantly  present,  science  ought  not  to  imaginelhe  psycho¬ 
logical  standpoint  could  advisedly  be  neglected  Bor  the  un¬ 
doubted  psychological  relationship  be  given  up  as  imimportant. 
If,  for  instance,  carcinoma  were  to  prove  an  infecuous  disease 
the  peculiar  growth  and  degenerative  process  of  carcinomatous 
cells  would  still  be  a  constant  factor  requiring  investigation 
on  its  own  account.  But,  as  I  have  said,  the  correlation 
between  the  anatomical  findings,  and  the  psychological 
picture  of  the  disease  is  so  loose  that  it  is  extremely  desirable 
to  study  the  psychological  side  of  it  thoroughly,  i 


Part  I  j 

Psychiatry  is  the  stepchild  of  medicine.  /  All  the  other 
branches  of  medicine  have  one  great  advantage  over  it — the 
scientific  methods  can  be  applied;  there  are' things  to  be 
seen,  and  felt,  physical  and  chemical  methods  of;  investigation 
to  be  followed :  the  microscope  shows  the  dreaded  bacillus, 
the  surgeon’s  knife  halts  at  no  difficulty  and  give,3  us  glimpses 
of  most  inaccessible  organs  of  vital  importance.'  Psychiatry, 
which  engages  in  the  exploration  of  the  mind,  4tands  ever  at 
the  door  seeking  in  vain  to  weigh  and  measure  as  in  the 
other  departments  of  science.  We  have  long!  known  that  we 
have  to  do  with  a  definite  organ,  the  brain ;  but  only  beyond 
the  brain,  beyond  the  morphological  basis  do  we  reach  what 
is  important  for  us — the  mind;  as  indefinable  as  it  ever  was, 
still  eluding  any  explanation,  no  matter  j  how  ingenious. 
Former  ages,  endowing  the  mind  with  substance,  and  personi¬ 
fying  every  incomprehensible  occurrence  in  feature,  regarded 
mental  disorder  as  the  work  of  evil  spirits ;(  the  patient  was 
looked  upon  as  one  possessed,  and  the  methods  of  treatment 
were  such  as  fitted  this  conception.  This  ndiediaeval  concep¬ 
tion  occasionally  gains  credence  and  express 
A  classical  example  is  the  driving  out  of  the 
elder  Pastor  Blumhardt  carried  out  successfully  in  the  famous 
case  of  Gottlieb  in  Diltus.1  To  the  honour  of  the  Middle 

1  Bresler,  “  Kulturliistorischer  Beitrag  zur  Hysteriie.”  Allg.  Zeitschrift 
fur  Psychiatrie,  Bd.  LIII.,  p.  333.  Ziindel,  “Biographic  Blumhardts.” 


ion  even  to-day. 
devil  which  the 


THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES 


315 


Ages  let  it  also  be  said  that  there  are  to  be  found  early 
evidences  of  a  sound  rationalism.  In  the  sixteenth  century 
at  the  Julius  Hospital  in  Wurzburg  mental  patients  were 
already  treated  side  by  side  with  others  physically  ill,  and 
the  treatment  seems  to  have  been  really  humane.  With  the 
'opening  of  the  modern  era,  and  with  the  dawn  of  the  first 
scientific  ideas,  the  original  barbaric  personification  of  the 
unknown  Great  Power  gradually  disappeared.  A  change 
arose  in  the  conception  of  mental  disease  in  favour  of  a  more 
philosophic  moral  attitude.  The  old  view  that  every  mis¬ 
fortune  was  the  revenge  of  the  offended  gods  returned  new- 
clothed  to  fit  the  times.  Just  as  physical  diseases  can,  in 
many  cases,  be  regarded  as  self-inflicted  on  account  of 
negligence,  mental  diseases  were  likewise  considered  to  be 
due  to  some  moral  injury,  or  sin.  Behind  this  conception 
the  angry  godhead  also  stood.  Such  views  played  a  great 
role,  right  up  to  the  beginning  of  last  century,  especially  in 
Germany.  In  France,  however,  about  the  same  time  a  new 
idea  was  appearing,  destined  to  sway  psychiatry  for  a  hundred 
years.  Pinel,  whose  statue  fittingly  stands  at  the  gateway  of 
the  Salpetriere  in  Paris,  took  away  the  chains  from  the 
insane  and  thus  freed  them  from  the  symbol  of  the  criminal. 
In  a  very  real  way  he  formulated  for  the  world  the  humane 
and  scientific  conception  of  modern  times.  A  little  later 
Esquirol  and  Bayle  discovered  that  certain  forms  of  insanity 
ended  in  death,  after  a  relatively  short  time,  and  that  certain 
constant  changes  in  the  brain  could  be  demonstrated  post 
mortem.  Esquirol  had  described  as  an  entity  general 
paralysis  of  the  insane,  or  as  it  was  popularly  called  “  soften¬ 
ing  of  the  brain,”  a  disease  which  is  always  bound  up  with 
chronic  inflammatory  degeneration  of  the  cerebral  matter. 
Thus  was  laid  the  foundation  of  the  dogma  which  you  will 
find  repeated  in  every  text-book  of  psychiatry,  viz.  “  diseases 
of  the  mind  are  diseases  of  the  brain.”  Confirmation  of  this 
conception  was  added  about  the  same  time  by  Gall’s  dis¬ 
coveries  which  traced  partial  or  complete  loss  of  the  power  of 
speech  a  psychical  capacity — to  a  lesion  in  the  region  of  the 
left  lower  frontal  convolution.  Somewhat  later  this  view 


316 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


proved  to  be  of  general  applicability.  Innumerable  cases  of 
extreme  idiocy  or  other  intense  mental  disorders  were  found 
to  be  caused  by  tumours  of  the  brain.  Towards  the  end  of 
the  nineteenth  century  Wernicke  (recently  deceased)  localised 
the  speech  centre  in  the  left  temporal  lobe.  This  epoch- 
making  discovery  raised  hopes  to  the  highest  pitch.  It  was 
expected  that  at  no  distant  day  every  characteristic  and 
every  psychical  activity  would  be  assigned  a  place  in  the 
cortical  grey  matter.  Gradually,  increased  attempts  were 
made  to  trace  the  primary  mental  changes  in  the  psychoses 
back  to  certain  parallel  changes  in  the  brain.  Meynert,  the 
famous  Viennese  psychiatrist,  described  a  formal  scheme  in 
which  the  alteration  in  blood-supply  in  certain  regions  was 
to  play  the  chief  part  in  the  origin  of  the  psychoses. 
Wernicke  made  a  similar  but  far  more  ingenious  attempt 
at  a  morphological  explanation  of  psychical  disorders.  The 
visible  result  of  this  tendency  is  seen  in  the  fact  that  even 
the  smallest  and  least  renowned  asylum  has,  to-day,  its 
anatomical  laboratory  where  cerebral  sections  are  cut,  stained, 
and  microscoped.  Our  numerous  psychiatric  journals  are  full 
of  morphological  contributions,  investigations  into  the  struc¬ 
ture  and  distribution  of  cells  in  the  cortex,  and  other  varying 
source  of  disorders  in  the  different  mental  diseases. 

Psychiatry  has  come  into  fame  as  gross  materialism. 
And  quite  rightly,  for  it  is  on  the  road — or  rather  reached 
it  long  ago — to  put  the  organ,  the  instrument,  above  function. 
Function  has  become  the  dependent  accessory  of  its  organs, 
the  mind  the  dependent  accessory  of  the  brain.  In  modern 
mental  therapy  the  mind  has  been  the  loser,  whilst  great 
progress  has  been  made  in  cerebral  anatomy ;  of  the  mind 
we  know  less  than  nothing.  Current  psychiatry  behaves 
like  a  man  who  thinks  he  can  unriddle  the  meaning  and 
importance  of  a  building  by  a  mineralogical  investigation  of 
its  stones.  Let  us  attempt  to  realise  which  mental  diseases 
show  obvious  changes  in  the  brain,  and  what  is  their  proportion. 

In  the  last  four  years  we  have  received  1325  patients  at 
Burgholzi ; 1  331  a  year.  Of  these  9  per  cent,  suffered  from 

1  Central  Asylum  and  University  Psychiatric  Clinic  in  Zurich. 


THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES  317 

congenital  psychic  anomalies.  By  this  is  understood  a  cer¬ 
tain  inborn  defect  of  the  psyche.  Of  these  9  per  cent.,  about 
a  quarter  were  imbeciles.  Here  we  meet  certain  changes  in 
the  brain  such  as  microcephalus,  hydrocephalus,  malforma¬ 
tions  or  absence  of  portions  of  the  brain.  The  remaining 
three-quarters  of  these  congenital  defects  present  no  typical 
changes  in  the  brain. 

Three  per  cent,  of  our  patients  suffer  from  epileptic 
mental  troubles.  In  the  course  of  epilepsy  there  arises 
gradually  a  typical  degeneration  of  the  brain.  The  degenera¬ 
tion  is,  however,  only  discoverable  in  severe  cases  and  when 
the  disease  has  existed  for  some  time.  If  the  attacks  have 
only  existed  for  a  relatively  short  time,  not  more  than  a  few 
years,  the  brain  as  a  rule  shows  nothing.  Seventeen  per 
cent,  of  our  patients  suffer  from  progressive  paralysis  and 
senile  dementia.  Both  diseases  present  characteristic 
changes  in  the  brain.  In  paralysis  there  is  most  extensive 
shrinkage  of  the  brain,  so  that  the  cortex  is  often  reduced  by 
one  half.  The  frontal  portions  of  the  brain  more  especially, 
may  be  reduced  to  a  third  of  the  normal  weight.  There  is 
a  similar  destruction  of  substance  in  senile  decay. 

Fourteen  per  cent,  of  the  patients  annually  received  are 
cases  of  poisoning,  at  least  13  per  cent,  of  these  being  due  to 
alcohol.  As  a  rule  in  slight  cases  nothing  is  to  be  found  in 
the  brain ;  in  only  a  relatively  few  severe  cases  is  there 
shrinkage  of  the  cortex,  generally  of  slight  degree.  The 
number  of  these  severe  cases  amounts  to  less  than  1  per 
cent,  of  the  yearly  cases  of  alcoholism. 

Six  per  cent,  of  the  patients  suffer  from  so-called  maniacal 
depressive  insanity  which  includes  the  maniacs  and  the 
melancholics.  The  essence  of  this  disease  is  readily  intel¬ 
ligible  to  the  public.  Melancholia  is  a  condition  of  abnormal 
sadness  without  disorder  of  intelligence  or  memory.  Mania 
is  the  opposite,  the  rule  being  an  abnormally  excited  state 
with  great  restlessness  ;  likewise  without  deep  disturbance 
of  intelligence  and  memory.  In  thi3  disease  there  are  no 
demonstrable  morphological  changes  in  the  brain. 

Forty-five  per  cent,  of  the  patients  suffer  from  the  real  and 


318 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


common  mental  disease  called  dementia  praecox.  The  name 
is  a  very  unhappy  one,  for  the  dementia  is  not  always  pre¬ 
cocious,  nor  in  all  cases  is  there  dementia.  Unfortunately 
the  disease  is  too  often  incurable ;  even  in  the  best  cases,  in 
those  that  recover,  where  the  outside  public  would  not  ob¬ 
serve  any  abnormality,  there  is  always  really  present  some 
defect  in  the  emotional  life.  The  picture  presented  by  the 
disease  is  extraordinarily  diverse  ;  generally  there  is  some 
disorder  of  feeling,  frequently  delusions  and  hallucinations. 
As  a  rule  there  is  nothing  to  be  found  in  the  brain.  Even  in 
cases  of  a  most  severe  type,  lasting  for  years,  an  intact  brain 
is  not  infrequently  found  post  mortem.  In  a  few  cases  only 
certain  slight  changes  are  present  which,  however,  cannot  as 
yet  be  reduced  to  any  law. 

To  sum  up  :  in  round  figures  a  quarter  of  our  insane 
patients  show  more  or  less  clearly  extensive  changes  and 
destruction  of  the  brain,  while  three-fourths  have  a  brain 
which  seems  to  be  generally  unimpared  or  at  most  exhibit 
such  changes  as  give  no  explanation  of  the  psychological 
disturbance. 

These  figures  offer  the  best  possible  proof  that  the  purely 
morphological  view-point  of  modern  psychiatry  leads  only 
very  indirectly,  if  at  all,  to  the  understanding  of  the  mental 
disorder,  which  is  our  aim.  We  must  take  into  account  the 
fact  that  those  mental  diseases  which  show  the  most  marked 
disturbances  of  the  brain  end  in  death ;  for  this  reason  the 
chronic  inmates  of  the  asylum  form  its  real  population,  con¬ 
sisting  of  some  70  to  80  percent,  of  cases  of  dementia  praecox, 
that  is,  of  patients  in  whom  anatomical  changes  are  practi¬ 
cally  non-existent.  The  psychiatry  of  the  future  must  come 
to  grips  with  the  core  of  the  thing ;  the  path  is  thus  made 
clear — it  can  only  be  by  ivay  of  psychology.  Hence  in  our 
Zurich  clinic  we  have  entirely  discarded  the  anatomical  view 
and  turned  to  the  psychological  investigation  of  insanity.  As 
most  of  our  patients  suffer  from  dementia  praecox  we  were 
naturally  concerned  with  this  as  our  chief  problem. 

The  older  asylum  physicians  paid  great  attention  to  the 


THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES 


819 


psychological  precursors  of  mental  disorder,  just  as  the  public 
still  does,  following  a  true  instinct.  We  accepted  this  hint 
and  carefully  investigated  the  previous  psychological  history 
wherever  possible.  Our  trouble  was  richly  rewarded,  for  we 
often  found,  to  our  surprise,  that  the  disease  broke  out  at 
a  moment  of  some  great  emotion  which,  in  its  turn,  had 
arisen  in  a  so-called  normal  way.  We  found  moreover  that 
in  the  mental  disease  which  ensued  a  number  of  symptoms 
occurred  which  it  was  quite  labour  in  vain  to  study  from  the 
morphological  standpoint.  These  same  symptoms,  however, 
were  comprehensible  when  considered  from  the  standpoint 
of  the  individual’s  previous  history.  Freud’s  fundamental 
investigations  into  the  psychology  of  hysteria  and  dreams 
afforded  us  the  greatest  stimulus  and  help  in  our  work. 

A  few  instances  of  the  latest  method  in  psychiatry  will 
make  the  subject  clearer  than  mere  dry  theory.  In  order  to 
bring  home  to  you  the  difference  in  our  conception  I  will 
first  describe  the  medical  history  in  the  older  fashion,  and 
subsequently  give  the  solution  characteristic  of  the  new 
departure. 

The  case  to  be  considered  is  that  of  a  cook  aged  32; 
she  had  no  hereditary  taint,  was  always  industrious  and 
conscientious,  and  had  never  been  noticeable  for  eccentric 
behaviour  or  the  like.  Quite  recently  she  became  acquainted 
with  a  young  man  whom  she  wished  to  marry.  From  that 
time  on  she  began  to  show  certain  peculiarities.  She  often 
spoke  of  his  not  liking  her  much,  was  frequently  out  of 
sorts,  ill-tempered,  and  sat  alone  brooding;  once  she  orna¬ 
mented  her  Sunday  hat  very  strikingly  with  red  and  green 
feathers,  another  day  she  bought  a  pair  of  pince-nez  in 
order  to  wear  them  when  she  went  out  walking  with  her 
fiance.  One  day  the  sudden  idea  that  her  teeth  were 
rather  ugly  would  not  let  her  rest,  and  she  resolved  to  get  a 
plate,  although  there  was  no  absolute  need.  She  had  all 
her  teeth  out  under  an  anaesthetic.  The  night  after  the 
operation  she  suddenly  had  a  severe  anxiety-attack.  She 
cried  and  moaned  that  she  was  damned  for  ever,  for  she 
had  committed  a  great  sin  ;  she  should  not  have  allowed 


320 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


her  teeth  to  be  extracted.  People  must  pray  for  her,  that 
God  might  pardon  her  sin.  In  vain  her  friends  attempted 
to  talk  her  out  of  her  fears,  to  assure  her  that  the  extraction 
of  teeth  was  really  no  sin ;  it  availed  nothing.  At  day¬ 
break  she  became  somewhat  quieter;  she  worked  through¬ 
out  the  da,y.  On  following  nights  the  attacks  were  repeated. 
When  consulted  by  the  patient  I  found  her  quiet,  but  she  wore 
a  rather  vacant  expression.  I  talked  to  her  about  the  opera¬ 
tion,  and  she  assured  me  it  was  not  so  dreadful  to  have  teeth 
extracted,  but  still  it  was  a  great  sin,  from  which  position, 
despite  every  persuasion,  she  could  not  be  moved.  She  con¬ 
tinually  repeated  in  plaintive,  pathetic  tones,  “  I  should  not 
have  allowed  my  teeth  to  be  extracted ;  oh  yes,  that  was 
a  great  sin  which  God  will  never  forgive  me.”  She  gave 
the  impression  of  real  insanity.  A  few  days  later  her  con¬ 
dition  grew  worse,  and  she  had  to  be  brought  into  the  asylum. 
The  anxiety-attack  had  extended  and  was  persistent,  and  the 
mental  disorder  lasted  for  months. 

The  history  shows  a  series  of  entirely  unrelated  symptoms. 
Why  all  the  queer  story  of  the  hat  and  pince-nez?  Why 
those  anxiety-attacks  ?  Why  this  delusion  that  the  extrac¬ 
tion  of  her  teeth  was  an  unpardonable  sin  ?  Nothing  here 
is  clear.  The  morphologically-minded  psychiatrist  would 
say :  This  is  just  a  typical  case  of  dementia  praecox ;  it  is 
the  essence  of  insanity,  of  madness,  to  talk  of  nothing  but 
mysteries;  the  standpoint  of  the  diseased  mind  towards  the 
world  is  displaced,  is  “  mad.”  What  is  no  sin  for  the  normal, 
the  patient  finds  a  sin.  It  is  a  bizarre  delusion  charac¬ 
teristic  of  dementia  praecox.  The  extravagant  lamentation 
about  this  supposed  sin  is  what  is  known  as  “  inadequate  ” 1 
emotional  emphasis.  The  queer  ornamentation  of  the  hat, 
the  pince-nez,  are  bizarre  notions  such  as  are  very  common 
in  these  patients.  Somewhere  in  the  brain  certain  cells 
have  fallen  into  disorder,  and  manufacture  illogical,  sense¬ 
less  ideas  of  one  kind  and  another  which  are  quite  without 
psychological  meaning.  The  patient  is  obviously  a  hereditary 

1  In  psychiatry  “  inadequate  ”  is  employed  to  denote  disproportion  between 
feeling  and  idea  whether  in  excess  or  the  reverse. 


321 


THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES 

degenerate  with  a  weak  brain,  having  a  twist,  which  is 
the  origin  of  the  disorder.  For  some  reason  or  other  the 
disease  has  suddenly  broken  out.  It  could  just  as  easily 
have  broken  out  at  any  other  time.  Perhaps  we  should 
have  had  to  capitulate  to  these  arguments  had  real  psycho¬ 
logical  analysis  not  come  to  our  aid.  In  filling  up  the  cer¬ 
tificate  required  for  her  removal  to  the  asylum,  it  transpired 
that  many  years  ago  she  had  had  an  affair  which  termi¬ 
nated  ;  her  lover  left  her  with  an  illegitimate  child.  Nobody 
had  been  told  of  this.  When  she  was  again  in  love  a  dilemma 
arose,  and  she  asked  herself,  What  will  this  new  lover  say 
about  it  ?  At  first  she  postponed  the  marriage,  becoming  more 
and  more  worried,  and  then  the  eccentricities  began.  To 
understand  these  we  must  immerse  ourselves  in  the  psycho¬ 
logy  of  a  naive  soul.  If  we  have  to  disclose  some  painful 
secret  to  a  beloved  person,  we  try  first  to  strengthen  his  love 
in  order  to  obtain  beforehand  a  guarantee  of  his  forgiveness. 
We  do  it  by  flattery  or  by  caresses,  or  we  try  to  impress 
the  value  of  our  own  personality  in  order  to  raise  it  in  the 
eyes  of  the  other.  Our  patient  decked  herself  out  with 
beautiful  feathers,  which  to  her  simple  taste  seemed  precious. 
The  wearing  of  “  pince-nez  ”  increases  the  respect  of  children 
even  of  a  mature  age.  And  who  does  not  know  people  who 
will  have  their  teeth  extracted,  out  of  pure  vanity,  in  order 
that  they  may  wear  a  plate  to  improve  their  appearance  ? 

After  such  an  operation  most  people  have  a  slight,  nervous 
reaction,  and  then  everything  becomes  more  difficult  to  bear. 
This  was,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  just  the  moment  when  the 
catastrophe  did  occur,  in  her  terror  lest  her  fiance  should 
break  with  her  when  he  heard  of  her  previous  life.  That  was 
the  first  anxiety-attack.  Just  as  the  patient  had  not  acknow¬ 
ledged  her  secret  in  all  these  years,  so  she  now  sought  to 
guard  it,  ana  shifted  the  fear  in  her  guilty  conscience  on  to 
the  extraction  of  the  teeth ;  she  thus  followed  a  method  well 
known  to  us,  for  when  we  dare  not  acknowledge  some  great 
sin  we  deplore  some  small  sin  with  the  greater  emphasis. 

The  problem  seemed  insoluble  to  the  weak  and  sensitive 
mind  of  the  patient,  hence  the  affect  became  insurmountably 

21 


322 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


great ;  this  is  the  mental  desire  as  presented  from  the 
psychological  side.  The  series  of  apparently  meaningless 
events,  the  so-called  madness,  have  now  a  meaning ;  a  signi¬ 
ficance  appertains  to  the  delusions,  making  the  patient  more 
human  to  us.  Here  is  a  person  like  ourselves,  beset  by 
universal  human  problems;  no  longer  merely  a  cerebral 
machine  thrown  out  of  gear.  Hitherto  we  thought  that  the 
insane  patient  revealed  nothing  to  us  by  symptoms,  save  the 
senseless  products  of  his  disordered  cerebral  cells,  but  that 
was  academic  wisdom  reeking  of  the  study.  When  we  pene¬ 
trate  into  the  human  secrets  of  our  patients,  we  recognise  mental 
disease  to  be  an  unusual  reaction  to  emotional  problems 
which  are  in  no  wise  foreign  to  ourselves,  and  the  delusion 
discloses  the  psychological  system  upon  which  it  is  based. 

The  light  which  shines  forth  from  this  conception  seems 
to  us  so  enormously  powerful  because  it  forces  us  into  the 
innermost  depths  of  that  tremendous  disorder  which  is  most 
common  in  our  asylums,  and  hitherto  least  understood ;  by 
reason  of  the  craziness  of  the  symptoms  it  is  the  type  that 
strikes  the  public  as  madness  in  excelsis. 

The  case  which  I  have  just  sketched  is  a  simple  one.  It 
is  transparent.  My  second  example  is  somewhat  moie  com¬ 
plicated.  It  is  the  case  of  a  man  between  30  and  40  years 
of  age ;  he  is  a  foreign  archaeologist  of  great  learning  and 
most  unusual  intelligence.  He  was  a  precocious  boy  of  quite 
excellent  character,  great  sensitiveness,  and  rare  gifts.  Physi¬ 
cally  he  was  small,  always  weakly,  and  a  stammerer.  He 
grew  up  and  was  educated  abroad,  and  afteiwaids  studied 
for  several  terms  at  B - .  So  far  there  had  been  no  dis¬ 

order  of  any  kind.  On  the  completion  of  his  university 
career  he  became  zealously  absorbed  in  his  archaeological 
work,  which  gradually  engulfed  him  to  such  an  extent  that 
he  was  dead  to  the  world  and  all  its  pleasures.  He  worked 
incessantly,  and  buried  himself  entirely  in  his  books.  He 
became  quite  unsociable ;  before,  awkward  and  shy  in  society, 
he  now  fled  from  it  altogether,  and  saw  no  one  beyond  a  few 
friends.  He  thus  led  the  life  of  a  hermit  devoted  entirely  to 
science.  A  few  years  later,  on  a  holiday  tour,  he  revisited 


323 


THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES 

B — -,  where  he  remained  a  few  days.  He  walked  a  great 
deal  in  the  environs  of  the  town.  His  few  acquaintances  now 
found  him  somewhat  strange,  taciturn,  and  nervous.  After 
a  somewhat  protracted  walk  he  seemed  tired,  and  said  that 
he  did  not  feel  very  well.  He  then  remarked  he  must  get 
himself  hypnotised,  he  felt  his  nerves  unsteady.  On  top 
of  this  he  was  attacked  by  physical  illness,  viz.  inflam¬ 
mation  of  the  lungs.  Very  soon  a  peculiar  state  of  excite¬ 
ment  supervened  which  led  to  suicidal  ideas.  He  was 
brought  to  the  asylum,  where  for  weeks  he  remained  in  an 
extremely  excited  state.  He  was  completely  deranged,  and 
did  not  know  where  he  was ;  he  spoke  in  broken  sentences 
which  no  one  could  understand.  He  was  often  so  excited 
and  aggressive  that  it  took  several  attendants  to  hold  him. 
He  gradually  became  quieter,  and  one  day  came  to  himself, 
as  if  waking  out  of  a  long,  confused  dream.  He  soon  com¬ 
pletely  regained  his  health,  and  was  discharged  as  cured. 
He  returned  to  his  home  and  again  immersed  himself  in 
books.  In  the  following  years  he  published  several  remark¬ 
able  works,  but,  as  before,  his  life  was  that  of  a  hermit 
living  entirely  in  his  books  and  dead  to  the  world.  He  then 
gradually  acquired  the  name  of  a  dried-up  misanthrope 
lost  to  all  meaning  of  the  beauty  of  life.  A  few  years  after 

his  first  illness  a  brief  holiday  brought  him  again  to  B _ . 

As  before  he  took  his  solitary  walks  in  the  environs.  One  day 
he  was  suddenly  overcome  by  a  faint  feeling,  and  lay  down 
in  the  street.  He  was  carried  into  a  neighbouring  house 
where  he  immediately  became  extremely  excited.  He  began 
to  perform  gymnastics,  jumped  over  the  rails  of  the  bed 
turned  somersaults  in  the  room,  began  to  declaim  in  a  loud 
voice,  sang  his  own  improvisations,  etc.  He  was  again 
brought  to  the  asylum.  The  excitement  continued.  He 
extolled  his  wonderful  muscles,  his  beautiful  figure,  his 
enormous  strength.  He  believed  that  he  had  discovered  a 
natural  law  by  which  a  wonderful  voice  could  be  developed. 

He  regarded  himself  as  a  great  singer,  and  a  marvellous 
reciter,  and  at  the  same  time  he  was  a  great  inspired  poet  and 
3omposer  to  whom  verse  and  melody  came  spontaneously. 


324 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


All  this  was  in  pitiable  and  very  remarkable  contrast  to 
reality.  He  is  a  small  weakly  man  of  unimposing  build,  with 
poorly  developed  muscles  betraying  at  the  first  glance  the 
atrophying  effect  of  his  studious  life.  He  is  unmusical,  his 
voice  is  weak  and  he  sings  out  of  tune  ;  he  is  a  bad  speaker, 
because  of  his  stutter.  For  weeks  he  occupied  himself  in 
the  asylum  with  peculiar  jumping,  and  contortions  of  the 
body  which  he  called  gymnastics,  he  sang  and  declaimed. 
Then  he  became  more  quiet  and  dreamy,  often  stared  thought¬ 
fully  in  front  of  him  for  a  long  time,  now  and  then  sang 
a  love  song  which,  despite  its  want  of  musical  expression, 
betrayed  a  pretty  feeling  for  love’s  aspirations.  .  This  also 
was  in  complete  contrast  with  the  dryness  and  isolation  of 
his  normal  life.  He  gradually  became  accessible  for  lengthy 
conversations. 

We  will  break  off  the  history  of  the  disease  here,  and  sum 
up  what  is  furnished  so  far  by  observation  of  the  patient. 

In  the  first  illness  the  delirium  broke  out  unexpectedly, 
and  was  followed  by  a  mental  disorder  with  confused  ideas 
and  violence  which  lasted  for  several  weeks.  Complete 
recovery  appeared  to  have  taken  place.  Six  years  later 
there  was  a  sudden  outbreak  of  mania,  grandiose  delusions, 
bizarre  actions,  followed  by  a  twilight-stage  gradually  leading 
to  recovery.  Here  we  again  see  a  typical  case  of  dementia 
praecox,  of  the  katatonic  variety,  especially  characterised  by 
peculiar  movements  and  actions.  In  psychiatry  the  views 
obtaining  at  present  would  regard  this  as  localised  cellular 
disease  of  some  part  of  the  cortex,  exhibiting  confusional 
states,  delusions  of  grandeur,  peculiar  contortions  of  the 
muscles,  or  twilight-states,  which  taken  all  together  have  as 
little  psychological  meaning  as  the  bizarre  shapes  of  a  drop 
of  lead  thrown  into  water. 

This  is  not  my  view.  It  was  certainly  no  accidental  freak 
of  the  brain-cells  that  created  the  dramatic  contrasts  shown  in 
the  second  illness.  We  can  see  that  these  contrasts,  the  so- 
called  grandiose  delusions,  were  very  subtly  determined  by  the 
deficiencies  in  the  patient’s  personality.  Without  doubt,  any 
one  of  us  would  naturally  regard  these  deficiencies  seriously 


325 


THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES 

in  oui selves.  Who  would  not  have  the  desire  to  find  com¬ 
pensation  for  the  aridness  of  his  profession  and  of  his  life 
m  the  joys  of  poetry  and  music  and  to  restore  to  his  body 
the  natural  power  and  beauty  stolen  from  it  by  the  study’s 
atmosphere  ?  Do  we  not  recall  with  envy  the  energy  of  a 
Demosthenes  who,  despite  his  stammering,  became  a  great 
orator  ?  If  our  patient  thus  fulfilled  the  obvious  gaps  in  his 
physical  and  mental  life  by  delusional  wishes,  the  supposition 
is  warranted  that  the  whispered  love-song  which  he  sang 
fiom  time  to  time,  filled  up  a  painful  blank  in  his  being, 
which  became  more  painful  the  more  it  was  concealed.  The 
explanation  is  not  far  to  seek.  It  is  simply  the  old  story, 
born  anew  in  every  human  soul,  in  a  guise  befitting  the 
destined  creature’s  highest  sensibilities. 

When  oui  patient  was  a  student  he  learnt  to  know  and 
love  a  girl-student.  Together  they  made  many  excursions  in 
the  enviions  of  the  town ;  but  his  exceeding  timidity  and 
bashfulness  (the  lot  of  the  stammerer),  never  permitted  him 
an  opportunity  of  getting  out  the  appropriate  words.  More¬ 
over,  he  was  poor  and  had  nothing  to  offer  her  but  hopes. 
The  time  came  for  the  termination  of  his  studies  ;  she  went 
away,  and  he  also,  and  they  never  saw  one  another  again. 
And  not  long  afterwards  he  heard  she  had  married  some 
one  else.  Then  he  relinquished  his  hopes,  but  he  did  not 
know  that  Eros  never  emancipates  his  slaves. 

He  buried  himself  in  abstract  learning,  not  to  forget,  but 
to  work  for  her  in  his  thoughts.  He  wanted  to  keep  the  love 
in  his  heart  quite  secret,  and  never  to  betray  that  secret. 
He  would  dedicate  his  works  to  her  without  her  ever  knowing 
it.  The  compromise  succeeded,  but  not  for  long.  Once  he 
travelled  through  the  town  where  he  heard  she  lived — rit 
seems  to  have  been  an  accident  that  he  travelled  through 
that  town.  He  did  not  leave  the  train,  which  only  made  a 
short  halt  there.  From  the  window  he  saw  standing  in  the 
distance  a  young  woman  with  a  little  child,  and  thought  it 
was  she.  Impossible  to  say  whether  it  was  really  so  or  not. 
He  does  not  think  he  felt  any  peculiar  feeling  at  that  moment  ; 
anyway  he  gave  himself  no  trouble  to  ascertain  whether  it 


326 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


was  she,  which  makes  the  presumption  strong  that  it  was 
not  really  she.  The  unconscious  wanted  to  be  left  in  peace 
with  its  illusion.  Shortly  afterwards  he  again  came  to  B  , 
the  place  of  old  memories.  Then  he  felt  something  strange 
stir  in  his  soul,  an  uneasy  feeling,  akin  to  Nietzsche’s — 

“  Not  for  long  shalt  thou  thirst,  0  burning  heart ! 

There  is  promise  in  the  air, 

Winds  come  to  me  from  unknown  mouths — 

The  healing  coolness  comes.’' 

Civilised  man  no  longer  believes  in  demons,  he  calls 
in  the  doctor.  Our  patient  wanted  to  be  hypnotised.  Then 
madness  overcame  him.  What  was  going  on  in  him  ? 

He  answered  this  question  in  broken  sentences,  with  long 
pauses,  in  that  twilight-stage  that  heralds  convalescence.  I 
give  as  faithfully  as  may  be  his  own  words.  When  he  fell  ill 
he  suddenly  lost  the  well-regulated  world  and  found  himself 
in  the  chaos  of  an  overmastering  dream,  a  sea  of  blood  and 
fire;  the  world  was  out  of  joint;  everywhere  conflagration, 
volcanic  outbreaks,  earthquakes,  mountains  fell  in,  followed 
by  enormous  battles  where  the  peoples  fell  upon  one  another ; 
he  became  involved  more  and  more  in  the  battle  of  nature,  he 
was  right  in  the  midst  of  those  fighting,  wrestling,  defending 
himself,  enduring  unutterable  misery  and  pain ;  gradually  he 
was  exalted  and  strengthened  by  a  strange  calming  feeling 
that  some  one  was  watching  his  struggles,  that  his  loved  one 
saw  all  from  afar.  That  was  the  time  when  he  showed  real 
violence  to  the  attendants.  He  felt  his  strength  increasing 
and  saw  himself  at  the  head  of  great  armies  which  he  would 
lead  to  victory.  Then  more  great  battles  and  at  length 
victory.  He  would  try  to  get  his  loved  one  as  prize  of  victory. 
As  he  drew  near  her  the  illness  ceased,  and  he  awoke  from 
a  long  dream. 

His  daily  life  again  began  to  follow  the  regular  routine. 
He  shut  himself  up  in  his  work  and  forgot  the  abyss  within 

himself.  A  few  years  later  he  is  again  at  B -  Demon  or 

Destiny  ?  Again  he  followed  the  old  trail  and  again  was 
overborne  by  old  memories.  But  this  time  he  was  not  im¬ 
mersed  in  the  depths  of  confusion.  He  remained  orientated 


327 


THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES 


and  en  rapport  with  his  surroundings.  The  struggle  was 
considerably  milder,  but  he  did  gymnastics,  practised  the 
aits,  and  made  good  his  deficiencies ;  then  followed  the  dreamy 
stage  with  the  love-songs,  corresponding  to  the  period  of 
victoiy  in  the  first  psychosis.  In  this  state,  according  to  his 
own  words,  he  had  a  dreamlike  feeling  as  if  he  stood  upon 
the  borders  of  two  worlds  and  knew  not  whether  truth  stood 
on  the  right  or  on  the  left.  He  told  me,  “It  is  said  she  is 
married,  but  I  believe  she  is  not,  but  is  still  waiting  for  me ; 
I  feel  that  it  must  be  so.  It  is  ever  to  me  as  if  she  were  not 
married,  and  as  if  success  were  yet  attainable.” 

Our  patient  here  portrayed  but  a  pale  copy  of  the  scene  in 
the  first  attack  of  psychosis,  when  he,  the  victor,  stood  before 
his  mistress.  In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  after  this  con¬ 


versation  the  scientific  interests  of  the  patient  again  began  to 
predominate.  He  spoke  with  obvious  unwillingness  about 
his  intimate  life,  he  repressed  it  more  and  more,  and  finally 
turned  away  from  it  as  if  it  did  not  belong  to  himself.  Thus 
gradually  the  gate  of  the  under-world  became  closed.  There 
remained  nothing  but  a  certain  tense  expression,  and  a  look 
which,  though  fixed  on  the  outer  world,  was  turned  inwards  at 
the  same  time ;  and  this  alone  hinted  at  the  silent  activity  of 
the  unconscious,  preparing  new  solutions  for  his  insoluble 
problem.  This  is  the  so-called  cure  in  dementia  prsecox. 

Hitherto  we  psychiatrists  used  not  to  be  able  to  suppress 
a  laugh  when  we  read  an  artist’s  attempts  to  portray  a 
psychosis.  These  attempts  have  been  generally  regarded  as 
quite  useless,  for  the  writer  introduces  into  his  conception  of 
the  psychosis  psychological  relationships  quite  foreign  to  the 
clinical  picture  of  the  disease.  But  the  artist  has  not  simply 
proceeded  to  copy  a  case  out  of  a  psychiatric  text-book ;  he 
knows  as  a  rule  better  than  the  psychiatrist. 

The  case  which  I  have  sketched  is  not  unique,  it  is  typical 
of  a  whole  class  for  which  the  artist  Spitteler  has  created 
a  model  of  universal  validity ;  the  model  is  Imago.  I  may 
take  for  granted  that  you  know  all  about  that  case.  The 
psychological  gulf,  however,  between  the  creation  of  the  artist 
and  the  insane  person  remains  great.  The  world  of  the 


828 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


artist  is  one  of  solved  problems ;  the  world  of  reality,  that  of 
unsolved  problems.  The  mental  patient  is  a  faithful  image 
of  this  reality.  His  solutions  are  unsatisfying  illusions,  his 
cure  a  temporary  giving  up  of  the  problem,  which  yet  goes  on 
working  in  the  depths  of  the  unconscious,  and  at  the  appointed 
time  again  rises  to  the  surface  and  creates  new  illusions  with 
new  scenery ;  part  of  the  history  of  mankind  is  here  seen 
abridged. 

Psychological  analysis  is  far  from  being  able  to  explain 
in  complete  and  illuminating  fashion  all  cases  of  the  disease 
with  which  we  are  here  concerned.  On  the  contrary,  the 
majority  remain  obscure  and  difficult  to  understand,  and 
chiefly  because  only  a  certain  proportion  of  patients  recover. 
Our  last  patient  is  noteworthy  because  his  return  to  a  normal 
state  afforded  us  a  survey  of  the  period  of  his  illness.  Un¬ 
fortunately  the  advantage  of  this  standpoint  is  not  always 
possible  to  us,  for  a  great  number  of  persons  never  find 
their  way  back  from  their  dreams.  They  are  lost  in  the 
maze  of  a  magic  garden  where  the  same  old  story  is  re¬ 
peated  again  and  again  in  a  timeless  present.  For  patients 
the  hands  of  the  clock  of  the  world  remain  stationary ;  there 
is  no  time,  no  further  development.  It  makes  no  diffeience 
to  them  whether  they  dream  for  two  days  or  thirty  years.  I 
had  a  patient  in  my  ward  who  was  five  years  without  uttering 
a  word,  in  bed,  and  entirely  buried  in  himself.  For  years  I 
visited  him  twice  daily,  and  as  I  reached  his  bedside  I  could 
see  at  once  that  there  was  no  change.  One  day  I  was  just 
about  to  leave  the  room  when  a  voice  I  did  not  recognise 
called  out — (i  Who  are  you  ?  What  do  you  want  here  ?  ”  I 
saw  with  astonishment  that  it  was  the  dumb  patient  who  had 
suddenly  regained  his  voice,  and  obviously  his  senses  also.  I 
told  him  I  was  his  doctor,  whereupon  he  asked  angrily,  why 
was  he  kept  a  prisoner  here,  and  why  did  no  one  ever  speak 
to  him  ?  He  said  this  in  an  injured  voice  just  like  a  normal 
person  whom  one  had  neglected  for  a  couple  of  days.  I 
informed  him  that  he  had  been  in  bed  quite  speechless  for 
five  years  and  had  responded  to  nothing,  whereat  he  looked 
at  me  fixedly  and  without  understanding.  Naturally  I  tried 


THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES 


829 


to  discover  what  had  gone  on  in  him  during  these  five  years, 
but  could  learn  nothing.  Another  patient  with  a  similar 
symptom,  when  asked  why  he  had  remained  silent  for  years, 
maintained,  “  Because  I  wanted  to  spare  the  German 
language.”  1  These  examples  show  that  it  is  often  impos¬ 
sible  to  lift  the  veil  of  the  secret,  for  the  patients  themselves 
have  neither  interest  nor  pleasure  in  explaining  their  strange 
experiences,  in  which  as  a  rule  they  realise  nothing  peculiar. 

Occasionally  the  symptoms  themselves  are  a  sign-post  to 
the  understanding  of  the  psychology  of  the  disease. 

We  had  a  patient  who  was  for  thirty-five  years  an  inmate 
at  Burgholzli.  For  decades  she  lay  in  bed,  she  never  spoke 
or  reacted  to  anything,  her  head  was  always  bowed,  her 
back  bent  and  the  knees  somewhat  drawn  up.  She  was 
always  making  peculiar  rubbing  movements  with  her  hands, 
so  as  to  give  rise  during  the  course  of  years  to  thick  horny 
patches  on  her  hands.  She  kept  the  thumb  and  index  finger 
of  her  right  hand  together  as  in  the  movement  of  sewing. 
When  she  died  I  tried  to  discover  what  she  had  been  formerly. 
Nobody  in  the  asylum  recalled  ever  having  seen  her  out  of 
bed.  Only  our  chief  attendant  had  a  memory  of  having  seen 
her  sitting  in  the  same  attitude  as  that  she  afterwards  took 
up  in  bed,  at  that  time  she  was  making  rapid  movements 
of  extension  of  the  arm  across  the  right  knee ;  it  was  said 
of  her  that  she  was  sewing  shoes,  later  that  she  was  polish¬ 
ing  shoes.  As  time  went  on  the  movements  became  more 
limited  till  finally  there  remained  but  a  slight  rubbing  move¬ 
ment,  and  only  the  finger  and  thumb  retained  the  sewing 
position.  In  vain  I  consulted  our  old  attendant,  she  knew 
nothing  about  the  patient’s  previous  history.  When  the 
seventy-year-old  brother  came  to  the  funeral  I  asked  him 
what  had  been  the  cause  of  his  sister’s  illness  ;  he  told  me  that 
she  had  had  a  love-affair,  but  for  various  reasons  it  had  come 
to  nothing.  The  girl  had  taken  this  so  to  heart  that  she 
became  low-spirited.  In  answer  to  a  query  about  her  lover 
it  was  found  that  he  was  a  shoemaker. 

Unless  you  see  here  some  strange  play  of  accident,  you 

I  am  indebted  for  this  example  to  my  colleague  Dr.  Abraham  of  Berlin. 


330 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


must  agree  that  the  patient  had  kept  the  memory-picture  of 
her  lover  unaltered  in  her  heart  for  thirty-five  years. 

One  might  easily  think  that  these  patients  who  give 
an  impression  of  imbecility  are  only  burnt-out  ruins  of 
humanity.  But  such  is  probably  not  the  case.  One  can 
often  prove  directly  that  such  patients  register  everything 
going  on  around  them  even  with  a  certain  curiosity,  and 
have  an  excellent  memory  for  it  all.  This  is  the  reason 
why  many  patients  become  for  a  time  pretty  sensible  again, 
and  develop  mental  powers  which  one  believed  they  had 
long  since  lost.  Such  intervals  occur  occasionally  during 
serious  physical  disease,  or  just  before  death.  We  had  a 
patient  with  whom  it  was  impossible  to  carry  on  a  sane 
conversation ;  he  only  produced  a  mad  medley  of  delusions 
and  words.  He  once  fell  seriously  ill  physically,  and  I  ex¬ 
pected  it  wTould  be  very  difficult  to  treat  him.  Not  at  all.  He 
was  quite  changed,  he  became  friendly  and  amiable,  and 
carried  out  all  his  doctor’s  orders  patiently  and  gratefully. 
His  eyes  lost  their  evil  darting  looks,  and  shone  quietly  and 
understandingly.  One  morning  I  came  to  his  room  with  the 
usual  greeting :  “  Good  morning.  How  are  you  getting 
on?”  The  patient  answered  me  in  the  well-known  way: 
“  There  again  comes  one  of  the  dog  and  monkey  troupe 
wanting  to  play  the  Saviour.”  Then  I  knew  his  physical 
trouble  was  over.  From  that  moment  the  whole  of  his 
reason  was  as  if  “  blown  away  ”  again. 

From  these  observations  we  see  that  reason  still  survives, 
but  is  pushed  away  into  some  corner  by  the  complete  pre¬ 
occupation  of  the  mind  with  diseased  thoughts. 

Why  is  the  mind  compelled  to  exhaust  itself  in  the 
elaboration  of  diseased  nonsense  ?  On  this  difficult  question 
our  new  insight  throws  considerable  light.  To-day  we  can  say 
that  the  pathological  images  dominate  the  interests  of  the 
patient  so  completely,  because  they  are  simply  derivatives  of 
the  most  important  questions  that  used  to  occupy  the  person 
when  normal — what  in  insanity  is  now  an  incomprehensible 
maze  of  symptoms,  used  to  be  fields  of  vital  interest  to  the 
former  personality. 


THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES 


381 


I  will  cite  as  an  example  a  patient  who  was  twenty  years 
in  the  asylum.  She  was  always  a  puzzle  to  the  physicians, 
lor  the  absurdity  of  her  delusions  exceeded  anything  that 
the  boldest  imagination  could  create. 

She  was  a  dressmaker  by  trade,  born  in  1845,  of  very 
poor  family.  Her  sister  early  went  wrong  and  was  finally 
lost  in  the  swamp  of  prostitution.  The  patient  herself  led 
an  industrious,  respectable,  reserved  life.  She  fell  ill  in 
1886  in  her  39th  year — at  the  threshold  of  the  age  when  so 
many  a  dream  is  brought  to  naught.  Her  illness  consisted 
in  delusions  and  hallucinations  which  increased  rapidly,  and 
soon  became  so  absurd  that  no  one  could  understand  her 
wishes  and  complaints.  In  1887  she  came  to  the  asylum. 
In  1888  her  statements,  so  far  as  the  delusions  were  con¬ 
cerned,  were  not  intelligible.  She  maintained  such  mon¬ 
strous  things  as  that :  “  At  night  her  spinal  marrow  had 
been  torn  out  \  pains  in  the  back  had  been  caused  by  sub¬ 
stances  that  went  through  the  walls  and  were  covered  with 
magnetism.”  “  The  monopoly  fixed  the  sorrows  which  are 
not  in  the  body  and  do  not  fly  about  in  the  air.”  “  Excur¬ 
sions  are  made  by  breathing  in  chemistry,  and  by  suffocation 
regions  are  destroyed.” 

In  1892  the  patient  styled  herself  the  “Bank  Note 
Monopoly,  Queen  of  the  Orphans,  Proprietress  of  the 
Burgholzli  Asylum ;  ”  she  said  :  “  Naples  and  I  must  provide 
the  world  with  macaroni  ”  (Nudel). 

In  1896  she  became  “  Germania  and  Helvetia  from 
exclusively  pure  butter  ”  ;  she  also  said,  “  I  am  Noah’s  Ark, 
the  boat  of  salvation  and  respect.” 

Since  then  the  disease  has  greatly  increased ;  her  last 
creation  is  the  delusion  that  she  is  the  “  lily  red  sea  monster 
and  the  blue  one.” 

These  instances  will  show  you  how  far  the  incomprehensi¬ 
bility  of  such  pathological  formations  go.  Our  patient  was 
for  years  the  classic  example  of  meaningless  delusional  ideas 
in  dementia  praecox ;  and  many  hundreds  of  medical  students 
have  received  from  the  demonstration  of  this  case  a  permanent 
impression  of  the  sinister  power  of  insanity.  But  even  this 


332 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


case  has  not  withstood  the  newer  technique  of  psychoanalysis. 
What  the  patient  says  is  not  at  all  meaningless ;  it  is  full  of 
significance,  so  that  he  who  has  the  key  can  understand 
without  overmuch  difficulty. 

Time  does  not  allow  me  to  describe  the  technique  by  means 
of  which  I  succeeded  in  lifting  the  veil  of  her  secret.  I  must 
content  myself  by  giving  a  few  examples  to  make  the  strange 
changes  of  thought  and  of  speech  in  this  patient  clear  to  you. 

She  said  of  herself  that  she  was  Socrates.  The  analysis  of 
this  delusion  presented  the  following  ideas  :  Socrates  was  the 
wisest  man,  the  man  of  greatest  learning  ;  he  was  infamously 
accused,  and  had  to  die  in  prison  at  the  hands  of  strange  men. 
She  was  the  best  dressmaker,  but  “  never  unnecessarily  cut  a 
thread,  and  never  allowed  a  piece  of  material  to  lie  about  on 
the  floor.”  She  worked  ceaselessly,  and  now  she  has  been 
falsely  accused,  wicked  men  have  shut  her  up,  and  she  will 
have  to  die  in  the  asylum. 

Therefore  she  is  Socrates ;  this  is,  as  you  see,  simple 
metaphor,  based  upon  obvious  analogy.  Take  another 
example:  “I  am  the  finest  professor  and  the  finest  artist  in  the 
world” 

The  analysis  furnishes  the  remarks  that  she  is  the  best 
dressmaker  and  chooses  the  most  beautiful  models  which 
show  up  well  and  waste  little  material ;  she  puts  on  the 
trimming  only  where  it  can  be  seen.  She  is  a  professor,  and 
an  artist  in  her  work.  She  makes  the  best  clothes  and  calls 
them  absurdly  “  The  Schnecke  Museum-clothes.”  Her 
customers  are  only  such  persons  as  frequent  the  Schnecke 
House  and  the  Museum  (the  Schnecke  House  is  the  aristo¬ 
cratic  club.  It  is  near  the  Museum  and  the  Library,  another 
rendezvous  of  the  aristocratic  set  of  Zurich),  for  she  is  the 
best  dressmaker  and  makes  only  Schnecke  Museum  1  clothing. 

The  patient  also  calls  herself  Mary  Stuart.  Analysis  showed 
the  same  analogy  as  with  Socrates :  innocent  suffering  and 
death  of  a  heroine. 

“Iam  the  Lorelei .”  Analysis:  This  is  an  old  and  well-known 
song  :  “  I  know  not  what  it  means,”  etc.  Whenever  she  wants 

1  As  one  might  say  in  England,  “  a  Bond  Street  dressmaker.” 


THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES 


388 


to  speak  about  her  affairs  people  do  not  understand  her,  and 
say  they  don’t  know  what  it  means  ;  hence  she  is  the  Lorelei. 

“  I  am  Switzerland .”  Analysis  :  Switzerland  is  free,  no 
one  can  rob  Switzerland  of  her  freedom.  The  patient  does 
not  belong  to  the  asylum,  she  would  be  free  like  Switzerland, 
hence  she  is  Switzerland. 

“I  am  a  crane”  Analysis:  In  the  “  Cranes  of  Ibykus  ” 
it  is  said :  “  Whosoever  is  free  of  sin  and  fault  shall  preserve 
the  pure  soul  of  a  child.”  She  has  been  brought  innocent  to 
the  asylum  and  has  never  committed  a  crime — hence  she  is 
a  crane. 

“ I  am  Schiller s  Bell”  Analysis :  Schiller’s  Bell  is  the 
greatest  work  of  the  great  master.  She  is  the  best  and  most 
industrious  dressmaker,  and  has  achieved  the  highest  rung  in 
the  art  of  dressmaking — hence  she  is  Schiller’s  Bell. 

“I  am  Hufeland .”  Analysis:  Hufeland  was  the  best 
doctor.  She  suffers  intolerably  in  the  asylum  and  is  more¬ 
over  treated  by  the  worst  doctors.  She  is,  however,  so 
prominent  a  personality  that  she  had  a  claim  to  the  best 
doctors,  that  is  to  a  doctor  like  Hufeland — hence  she  is 
Hufeland. 

The  patient  used  the  expression  “  I  am  ”  in  a  very  arbi¬ 
trary  way.  Sometimes  it  meant  “it  belongs  to  me”  or  “it 
is  proper  for  me”;  sometimes  it  means  “I  should  have.” 
This  is  seen  from  the  following  analysis : 

“  I  am  the  master-key”  Analysis  :  The  master-key  is  the 
key  that  opens  all  the  doors  of  the  asylum.  Properly,  accord¬ 
ing  to  all  rights,  the  patient  should  long  since  have  obtained 
this  key  for  she  has  been  for  many  years  “  the  proprietress  of 
the  Burgholzli  Asylum.”  She  expresses  this  reflection  very 
much  simplified  in  the  sentence,  “  I  am  the  master-key.” 

The  chief  content  of  her  delusions  is  concentrated  in  the 
following  words  :  — 

“7  am  the  monoyly .”  Analysis:  The  patient  means  the 
bank-note  monoply,  which  has  belonged  to  her  for  some  time. 
She  believes  that  she  possesses  the  monopoly  of  the  entire 
bank  notes  of  the  world,  thus  creating  enormous  riches  for 
herself,  in  compensation  for  the  poverty  and  lowliness  of  her 


834 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


lot.  Her  parents  died  early  ;  hence  she  is  the  Queen  of  the 
Orphans.  Her  parents  lived  and  died  in  great  poverty.  Her 
blessings  are  extended  to  them  also,  the  dreamlike  delusions 
of  the  patient  benefit  them  in  many  ways.  She  says  textu- 
ally  :  “  My  parents  are  clothed  by  me,  my  sorely-tried  mother, 
full  of  sorrow — I  sat  with  her  at  table — covered  in  white  with 
superfluity.” 

This  is  another  of  these  malleable  hallucinations  which 
the  patient  had  daily.  It  is  one  of  those  scenes  of  wish-fulfil¬ 
ment,  with  poverty  on  one  side  and  riches  on  the  other,  re¬ 
calling  Hauptmanns  Hannele;  more  especially  that  scene 
where  Gottwald  says  :  “  She  was  clothed  in  rags — now  she  is 
bedeckt  in  silken  robes ;  and  she  ran  about  barefoot — now 
she  has  shoes  of  glass  to  her  feet.  Soon  she  will  live  in  a 
golden  castle  and  eat  each  day  of  baked  meats.  Here  has  she 
lived  on  cold  potatoes.  .  .  .” 

The  wish-fulfilments  of  our  patient  go  even  further. 
Switzerland  has  to  furnish  her  with  an  income  of  150,000 
francs.  The  Director  of  the  Burgholzli  owes  her  80,000  francs 
damages  for  wrongful  incarceration.  She  is  the  proprietress 
of  a  distant  island  with  silver  mines,  the  “  mightiest  silver 
island  in  the  world.”  Therefore  she  is  also  the  greatest  orator, 
possesses  the  most  wonderful  eloquence,  for,  as  she  says, 
“  Speech  is  silver,  silence  gold.”  To  her  all  the  beautiful 
landed  estates  belong — all  the  rich  quarters,  towns  and  lands, 
she  is  the  proprietress  of  a  world,  even  a  “  threefold  pro¬ 
prietress  of  the  world.”  Whilst  poor  Hannele  was  only  elevated 
to  the  side  of  the  Heavenly  Bridegroom,  our  patient  has  the 
“  Key  of  Heaven,”  she  is  not  only  the  honoured  earthly  queens 
Mary  Stuart  and  Queen  Louise  of  Prussia,  but  she  is  also  the 
Queen  of  Heaven,  the  Mother  of  God  as  well  as  the  Godhead. 
Even  in  this  earthly  world  where  she  was  but  a  poor,  ill- 
regarded  homely  dressmaker  she  attained  fulfilments  of  her 
human  wishes,  for  she  had  taken  three  husbands  from  the 
best  families  in  the  town  and  her  fourth  was  the  Emperor 
Francis.  From  these  marriages  there  were  two  phantom 
children — a  little  boy  and  a  little  girl.  Just  as  she  clothed, 
fed  and  feasted  her  parents,  so  she  provided  for  the  future  of 


THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES  885 

her  children.  To  her  son  she  bequeathed  the  great  bazaar  of 
Zurich,  therefore  her  son  is  a  “  Zur,”  for  the  proprietor  of  a 
Bazaar  is  a  “Zur.”  The  daughter  resembles  her  mother; 
hence  she  becomes  the  proprietress  of  the  asylum  and  takes 
her  mother’s  place  so  that  the  mother  is  released  from  cap¬ 
tivity.  The  daughter  therefore  receives  the  title  of  “  Agency 
of  Socrates,”  for  she  replaces  Socrates  in  captivity. 

These  instances  by  no  means  exhaust  the  delusional  fancies 
of  the  patient.  But  they  will  give  you  some  idea,  I  hope,  of 
the  richness  of  her  inner  life  although  she  was  apparently  so 
dull  and  apathetic,  or,  as  was  said  imbecile,  and  sat  for  twenty 
years  in  her  workroom,  where  she  mechanically  repaired  her 
linen,  occasionally  uttering  a  complex  of  meaningless  frag¬ 
ments  which  no  one  had  hitherto  been  able  to  understand. 
Her  odd  lack  of  words  can  now  be  seen  in  another  light ;  they 
are  fragments  of  enigmatical  inscriptions,  of  fairy-story 
phantasies,  which  have  escaped  from  the  hard  world  to  found 
a  world  of  their  own.  Here  the  tables  are  ever  laden,  and  a 
thousand  feasts  are  celebrated  in  golden  palaces.  The  patient 
can  only  spare  a  few  mysterious  symbols  for  the  gloomy  dim 
shores  of  reality ;  they  need  not  be  understood,  for  our  under¬ 
standing  has  not  been  necessary  for  her  for  this  long  time. 

Nor  is  this  patient  at  all  unique.  She  is  one  of  a  type. 
Similar  phantasies  are  always  found  in  patients  of  this  kind, 
though  not  always  in  such  profusion. 

The  parallels  with  Hauptmann’s  Hannele  show  that  here 
likewise  the  artist  has  shown  us  the  way  with  the  free  creation 
of  his  own  phantasy.  From  this  coincidence,  which  is  not 
accidental,  we  may  conclude  that  there  is  something  common 
both  to  the  artist  and  the  insane  and  not  to  them  alone. 
Every  human  being  has  also  within  himself  that  restless 
creative  phantasy  which  is  ever  engaged  in  assuaging  the 
harshness  of  reality.  Whoever  gives  himself  unsparingly 
and  carefully  to  self-observation,  will  realise  that  there  dwells 
within  him  something  which  would  gladly  hide  and  cover  up 
all  that  is  difficult  and  questionable  in  life,  and  thus  procure 
an  easy  and  free  path.  Insanity  grants  the  upper  hand  to 
this  something.  When  once  it  is  uppermost,  reality  is  more 


336 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


or  less  quickly  driven  out.  It  becomes  a  distant  dream,  and 
the  dream  which  enchains  the  patient  wholly  or  in  part,  and 
often  for  life,  has  now  the  attributes  of  reality.  We  normal 
persons,  who  have  to  do  entirely  with  reality,  see  only  the 
products  of  disordered  fancy,  but  not  the  wealth  of  that  side  of 
the  mind  which  is  turned  away  from  us.  Unfortunately  only 
too  often  no  further  knowledge  reaches  us  of  the  things 
which  are  transpiring  on  that  other  side,  because  all  the 
bridges  are  broken  down  which  unite  this  side  with  that. 

We  do  not  know  to-day  whether  these  new  views  are  of 
universal  or  only  of  limited  validity ;  the  more  carefully  and 
perseveringly  we  examine  our  patients,  the  more  we  shall 
meet  cases,  which,  despite  apparent  total  imbecility,  will  yet 
afford  us  at  least  some  fragmentary  insight  into  the  obscurities 
of  the  psychical  life.  This  life  is  far  removed  from  that  mental 
poverty  which  the  prevailing  theories  were  compelled  to 
accept. 

However  far  we  are  from  being  able  to  understand  fully 
the  concatenations  of  that  obscure  world,  at  least  we  may 
maintain,  with  complete  assurance,  that  in  dementia  praecox 
there  is  no  symptom  which  can  be  described  as  psychologically 
baseless  and  meaningless.  The  most  absurd  things  are  in 
reality  symbols  of  ideas  which  are  not  only  generally  under¬ 
standable,  but  also  universally  operative  in  the  human  heart. 
In  insanity  we  do  not  discover  anything  new  and  unknown, 
but  we  look  at  the  foundation  of  our  own  being,  the  source 
of  those  life-problems  in  which  we  are  all  engaged. 


Part  II 

The  number  of  psychoanalytic  investigations  into  the 
psychology  of  dementia  praecox  has  considerably  increased 
since  the  publication  of  my  book  upon  the  subject.1  When, 
in  1903, 1  made  the  first  analysis  of  a  case  of  dementia  praecox, 
there  dawned  on  me  a  premonition  of  the  possibilities  of 
future  discoveries  in  this  sphere.  This  has  been  confirmed. 

Freud  first  submitted  a  case  of  paranoid  dementia  to 


1  “  The  Psychology  of  Dementia  Praecox.” 


387 


THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES 


closer  psychological  investigation.1  This  he  was  enabled  to 
do  by  means  of  an  analytic  technique  perfected  through  his 
rich  experiences  with  neurotics.  He  selected  the  famous  auto¬ 
biography  of  P.  Schreber,  “  Denkwiirdigkeiten  eines  Nerven- 
kranken.  The  patient  could  not  be  analysed  personally,  but 
having  published  his  most  interesting  autobiography  all  the 
material  wanted  for  an  analysis  was  to  be  found  in  it. 

In  this  study  Freud  shows  out  of  what  infantile  forms  of 
thought  and  instincts  the  delusional  system  was  built  up. 
The  peculiar  delusions  which  the  patient  had  about  his  doctor 
whom  he  identified  with  God  or  with  a  godlike  being,  and 
certain  other  surprising  and  really  blasphemous  ideas,  Freud 
was  able  to  reduce  most  ingeniously  to  his  infantile  relation¬ 
ship  to  his  father .  This  case  also  presented  similar  bizarre  and 
grotesque  concatenations  of  ideas  as  the  one  I  have  described. 
As  the  author  himself  says,  his  work  confines  itself  to  the 
task  of  pointing  out  those  universally  existent  and  undifferen¬ 
tiated  foundations  out  of  which  we  may  say  every  psychological 
formation  is  historically  developed.2  This  reductive  analytical 
process  did  not,  however,  furnish  such  enlightening  results 
m  regard  to  the  rich  and  surprising  symbolism  in  patients  of 
this  kind,  as  we  had  been  accustomed  to  expect  from  the  same 
method  in  the  realm  of  the  psychology  of  hysteria.  In  read- 
mg  certain  works  of  the  Zurich  school,  for  example,  Maeder,3 
Spielrem,4  Nelken,5  Grebelskaja,6  Itten,7  one  is  powerfully 

impressed  by  the  enormous  symbol-formation  in  dementia 
praecox. 

Some  of  the  authors  still  proceed  essentially  by  the  method 
analytic  reduction,  tracing  back  the  complicated  delusional 


*  Jahrbuch  fiir  psychoanalytische  Forschung,  vol.  III.  pp.  9  and  558. 

PalW°mP*  *ls°  Ferenczi :  “uker  die  Rolle  der  Homosexuality  in  der 
Pathogenese  der  Paranoia,”  Jahrb.,  III.,  p.  101. 

ken  ”M7r/rfeh'fPS5Ch?1°SiS';he  Untersuchu»ge°  an  Dementia  praecox  Kran- 
e“>  ^hrbnch  f.  psychoanalyt.  Forsch.,  II.,  p.  185. 

phrene!’Uc?iID,  pb3r29dft  PSyChoIogisohei1  Inhalt  dalles  von  Schizo- 

phrm»!k-eL:.,iv!pylo5hffe.  Be°ba0htUOSel1  Phantasien  eines  Sehizo- 

•  m!belSu  ^ 3a.*,  Psyck°logische  Analyse  eines  Paranoiden,”  l.c.,  IV.,  p.  116  ff. 

n  •  ei  rage  zur  Psychologie  der  Dementia  praecox,”  l.c.,  p.  V.,  1  ff. 

22 


338 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


formation  into  its  simpler  and  more  universal  components, 
as  I  have  done  in  the  preceding  pages.  One  cannot,  however, 
resist  the  feeling  that  this  method  hardly  does  justice  to  the 
fulness  and  the  almost  overpowering  wealth  of  phantastic 
symbol-formation,  although  it  does  undoubtedly  throw  a  light 
upon  the  subject  in  certain  directions. 

Let  me  illustrate  with  an  example.  We  should  be  thankful 
for  a  commentary  upon  “Faust”  which  traced  back  all  the 
diverse  material  of  Part  II.  to  its  historical  sources,  or  for 
a  psychological  analysis  of  Part  I.  which  pointed  out  how 
the  dramatic  conflict  corresponds  to  a  personal  conflict  in 
the  soul  of  the  poet;  we  should  be  glad  of  an  exposition 
which  pointed  out  how  this  subjective  conflict  is  itself  based 
upon  those  ultimate  and  universal  human  things  which  are 
nowise  foreign  to  us  since  we  all  carry  the  seeds  of  them  in 
our  hearts.  Nevertheless  we  should  be  a  little  disappointed. 
We  do  not  read  “Faust”  just  in  order  to  discover  that  also 
we  are,  in  all  things,  “human,  all  too  human.”  Alas,  we 
know  that  hut  too  well  already.  Let  any  one  who  has  not  yet 
learnt  it  go  for  a  little  while  out  into  the  world  and  look 
at  it  without  preconceptions  and  with  open  eyes.  He  will 
turn  back  from  the  might  and  power  of  the  “  too  human, 
hungrily  he  will  pick  up  his  “Faust,  not  to  find  again 
what  he  has  just  left,  but  to  learn  how  a  man  like  Goethe 
shakes  off  these  elemental  human  things  and  finds  freedom 
for  his  soul.  When  we  once  know  who  was  the  “  Prokto- 
phantasmist,”  to  what  chronological  events  the  mass  of 
symbols  in  Part  II.  relates,  how  it  is  all  intimately  hound  up 
with  the  poet’s  own  soul  and  conditioned  by  it,  we  come  to 
regard  this  determination  as  less  important  than  the  problem 
itself— what  does  the  poet  mean  by  his  symbolic  creation? 
Proceeding  purely  reductively,  one  discovers  the  final  meaning 
in  these  universal  human  things ;  and  demands  nothing 
further  from  an  explanation  than  that  the  unknown  and  com¬ 
plicated  shall  be  reduced  to  the  known  and  simple.  I  should 
like  to  designate  this  kind  of  understanding  as  retrospective 
understanding.  But  there  is  another  kind  of  understand¬ 
ing,  which  is  not  analytic  reduction,  but  is  of  a  synthetic 


339 


THE  CONTENT  OP  THE  PSYCHOSES 

or  constructive  nature.  I  would  designate  this  prospective 
understanding ,  and  the  corresponding  method  as  the  Con¬ 
structive  method. 

It  is  common  knowledge  that  present-day  scientific  explana¬ 
tion  rests  upon  the  basis  of  the  causal  principle.  Scientific 
explanation  is  causal  explanation.  We  are  therefore  naturally 
inclined,  whenever  we  think  scientifically,  to  explain  causally  ; 
to  undertand  a  thing  and  to  regard  it  as  explained  whenever 
it  is  reduced  analytically  to  its  cause  and  general  principle. 

In  so  far  Freud’s  psychological  method  of  interpretation  is 
strictly  scientific. 

If  we  apply  this  method  to  our  “  Faust  ”  it  must  become 
clear  that  something  more  is  required  for  a  true  understanding. 
It  will  even  seem  to  us  that  we  have  not  gathered  the  poet’s 
deepest  meaning  if  we  only  see  in  it  universal  foregone  human 
conclusions.  What  we  really  want  to  find  out  is  how  this  man 
has  redeemed  himself  as  an  individual,  and  when  we  arrive 
at  this  comprehension  then  we  shall  also  understand  the 
symbol  given  by  Goethe.  It  is  true  we  may  then  fall  into 
the  error  that  we  understand  Goethe  himself.  But  let  us  be 
cautious  and  modest,  simply  saying  we  have  thereby  arrived 
at  an  understanding  of  ourselves.  I  am  thinking  here  of 
Kant’s  thought-compelling  definition  of  comprehension,  as 

“ the  realisation  of  a  thing  to  the  extent  which  is  sufficient 
for  our  purpose.” 

This  understanding  is,  it  is  true,  subjective,  and  therefore 
not  scientific  for  those  to  whom  science  and  explanation  by 
the  causal  principle  are  identical.  But  the  validity  of  this 
identification  is  open  to  question.  In  the  sphere  of  psychology 
must  emphasise  my  doubt  on  this  point. 

We  speak  of  “  objective  ”  understanding  when  we  have 
?iven  a  causal  explanation.  But  at  bottom,  understanding  is 
1  subjective  process  upon  which  we  confer  the  quality  “  objec- 
iive  ”  really  only  to  differentiate  it  from  another  kind  of  under- 
itanding  which  is  also  a  psychological  and  subjective  process, 
mt  uP°n  which>  without  further  ado,  we  bestow  the  quality 
subjective.  ’  The  attitude  of  to-day  only  grants  scientific 
■alue  to  “objective”  understanding,  on  account  of  its 


340 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


universal  validity.  This  standpoint  is  incontestably  conect 
wherever  it  is  not  a  question  of  the  psychological  process 
itself,  and  hence  it  is  valid  in  all  sciences  apart  from  pure 
psychology. 

To  interpret  Faust  objectively,  i.e.  from  the  causal  stand¬ 
point,  is  as  though  a  man  were  to  consider  a  sculpture  from 
the  historical,  technical  and — last  but  not  least  from  the 
mineralogical  standpoint.  But  where  lurks  the  real  meaning 
of  the  wondrous  work  ?  Where  is  the  answer  to  that  most 
important  question  :  what  aim  had  the  artist  in  mind,  and  how 
are  we  ourselves  to  understand  his  work  subjectively  ?  To 
the  scientific  spirit  this  seems  an  idle  question  which  anyhow 
has  nothing  to  do  with  science.  It  comes  furthermore  into 
collision  with  the  causal  principle,  for  it  is  a  purely  specula¬ 
tive  constructive  view.  And  the  modern  world  has  overthrown 
this  spirit  of  scholasticism. 

But  if  we  would  approach  to  an  understanding  of  psycho¬ 
logical  things  we  must  remember  the  fact  of  the  subjective 
conditioning  of  all  knowledge.  The  world  is  as  we  see  it  and 
not  simply  objective ;  this  holds  true  even  more  of  the  mind. 
Of  course  it  is  possible  to  look  at  the  mind  objectively,  just 
as  at  Faust,  or  a  Gothic  Cathedral.  In  this  objective  con¬ 
ception  there  is  comprised  the  whole  worth  and  worthless¬ 
ness  of  current  experimental  psychology  and  psychoanalysis. 
The  scientific  mind,  thinking  causally,  is  incapable  of  under¬ 
standing  what  is  ahead;  it  only  understands  what  is  past, 
that  is,  retrospective.  Like  Ahriman,  the  Persian  devil,  it 
has  the  gift  of  After-Knowledge.  But  this  spirit  is  only  one 
half  of  a  complete  comprehension.  The  other  more  important 
half  is  prospective  or  constructive;  if  we  are  not  able  to 
understand  what  lies  ahead,  then  nothing  is  understood.  If 
psychoanalysis,  following  Freud’s  orientation,  should  succeed 
in  presenting  an  uninterrupted  and  conclusive  connection 
beween  Goethe’s  infantile  sexual  development  and  his  woik, 
or,  following  Adler,  between  the  infantile  struggle  for  power 
of  the  adult  Goethe  and  his  work,  an  interesting  proposition 
would  have  been  solved — we  should  have  learnt  how  a  master¬ 
piece  can  be  reduced  to  the  simplest  thinkable  elements  which 


THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES  341 

are  universal,  and  to  be  found  working  within  the  depths  of 
everything  and  everybody.  But  did  Goethe  construct  his 
work  to  this  end  ?  Was  it  his  intention  that  it  should  be 
thus  conceived  ? 

It  must  be  sufficiently  clear  that  such  an  understanding, 
though  undoubtedly  scientific,  would  be  entirely,  utterly, 
beside  the  mark.  This  statement  is  valid  for  psychology  in 
general.  To  understand  the  psyche  causally,  means  to  under¬ 
stand  but  half  of  it.  The  causal  understanding  of  Faust 
enlightens  us  as  to  how  it  became  a  finished  work  of  art,  but 
reveals  nothing  of  the  living  meaning  of  the  poet.  That 
meaning  only  lives  if  we  experience  it,  in  and  through  ourselves. 
In  so  far  as  our  actual  present  life  is  for  us  something  essen¬ 
tially  new  and  not  a  repetition  of  all  that  has  gone  before, 
the  great  value  of  such  a  work  is  to  be  seen,  not  in  its  causal 
development,  but  in  its  living  reality  for  our  own  lives.  We 
should  be  indeed  depreciating  a  work  like  Faust  if  we  were 
only  to  regard  it  as  something  that  has  been  perfected  and 
finished  ,  it  is  only  understood  when  conceived  as  a  becoming 
and  as  an  ever  new-experiencing. 

Thus  we  must  regard  the  human  psyche.  Only  on  one 
side  is  the  mind  a  Has  Been,  and  as  such  subordinate  to  the 
causal  principle.  On  the  other  side  the  mind  is  a  Becoming 
that  can  only  be  grasped  synthetically  or  constructively.  The 
causal  standpoint  asks  how  it  is  this  actual  mind  has  become 
what  it  appears  to-day  ?  The  constructive  standpoint  asks 

how  a  bridge  can  be  built  from  this  actual  psyche  to  its  own 
future  ? 

Just  as  the  causal  method  finally  reaches  the  general 
principles  of  human  psychology  by  the  analysis  and  reduction 
of  individual  events,  so  does  the  constructive  standpoint  reach 
aims  that  are  general  by  the  synthesis  of  individual  tendencies. 
The  mind  is  a  point  of  passage  and  thus  necessarily  determined 
from  two  sides.  On  the  one  side  it  offers  a  picture  of  the  pre¬ 
cipitate  of  the  past,  and  on  the  other  side  a  picture  of  the 
germinating  knowledge  of  all  that  is  to  come,  in  so  far  as  the 
psyche  creates  its  own  future. 

^  hat  has  been  is,  on  the  one  hand,  the  result  and  apex 


342 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


of  all  that  was — as  such  it  appears  to  the  causal  standpoint ; 
on  the  other  hand,  it  is  an  expression  of  all  that  is  to  be. 
The  future  is  only  apparently  like  the  past,  but  in  its  essence 
always  new  and  unique,  (the  causal  standpoint  would  like 
to  invert  this  sentence)  thus  the  actual  formula  is  incomplete, 
germlike  so  to  say,  in  relation  to  what  is  to  be. 

To  get  any  conception  of  this  expression  of  what  is  to  be 
we  are  forced  to  apply  a  constructive  interest  to  it.  I  almost 
felt  myself  tempted  to  say,  “a  scientific  interest.”  But 
modern  science  is  identical  with  the  causal  principle.  So  long 
as  we  consider  the  actual  mind  causally,  that  is  scientifi¬ 
cally,  we  elude  the  mind  as  a  Becoming.  This  other  side  of 
the  psyche  can  never  be  grasped  by  the  exclusive  use  of  the 
causal  principle,  but  only  by  means  of  the  constructive 
standpoint.  The  causal  standpoint  reduces  things  to  their 
elements,  the  constructive  standpoint  elaborates  them  into 
something  higher  and  more  complicated.  This  latter  stand¬ 
point  is  necessarily  a  speculative  one. 

Constructive  understanding  is,  however,  differentiated  from 
scholastic  speculation  because  it  imposes  no  general  validity, 
but  only  subjective  validity.  When  the  speculative  philosopher 
believes  he  has  comprehended  the  world  once  for  all  by  his 
System,  he  deceives  himself ;  he  has  only  comprehended  him¬ 
self  and  then  naively  projected  that  view  upon  the  world.  In 
reaction  against  this,  the  scientific  method  of  the  modern  world 
has  almost  put  an  end  to  speculation  and  gone  to  the  other 
extreme.  It  would  create  an  “ objective”  psychology.  In 
opposition  to  such  efforts,  the  stress  which  Freud  has  placed 
upon  individual  psychology  is  of  immortal  merit.  The  extra¬ 
ordinary  importance  of  the  subjective  in  the  development  of 
the  objective  mental  process  was  thus  first  brought  adequately 
into  prominence. 

Subjective  speculation  lays  no  claim  to  universal  validity, 
it  is  identical  with  constructive  understanding.  It  is  a  sub¬ 
jective  creation,  which,  looked  at  externally,  easily  seems  to 
be  a  so-called  infantile  phantasy,  or  at  least  an  unmistak¬ 
able  derivative  of  it ;  from  an  objective  standpoint  it  must  be 
judged  as  such,  in  so  far  as  objective  is  regarded  as  identical 


848 


THE  CONTENT  OE  THE  PSYCHOSES 

with  scientific  or  causal.  Looked  at  from  within,  however, 
constructive  understanding  means  redemption. 

Creation  that  is  the  great  redemption  from  suffering 
and  easiness  of  living.”  1 

Starting  from  these  considerations  as  to  the  psychology  of 
those  mental  patients  to  whom  the  Schreber  case  belongs,  we 
must,  from  the  “  objective-scientific  ”  standpoint,  reduce  the 
structuial  phantasy  of  the  patient  to  its  simple  and  most 
generally  valid  elements.  This  Freud  had  done.  But  that 
is  only  half  of  the  work  to  be  done.  The  other  half  is  the  con¬ 
structive  understanding  of  Schreber’s  system.  The  question 
is :  What  end,  what  freedom,  did  the  patient  hope  to  achieve 
by  the  creation  of  his  system  ? 

The  scientific  thinker  of  to-day  will  regard  this  question 
as  inappropriate.  The  psychiatrist  will  certainly  smile  at  it, 
for  he  is  thoroughly  assured  of  the  universal  validity  of  his 
causalism,  he  knows  the  psyche  merely  as  something  that  is 
made,  descendent,  reactive.  Not  uncommonly  there  lurks  the 
unconscious  prejudice  that  the  psyche  is  a  brain-secretion. 

Looking  at  such  a  morbid  system  without  preconception, 
and  asking  ourselves  what  goal  this  delusional  system  is 
aiming  at,  we  see,  in  fact,  firstly,  that  it  is  endeavouring  to 
get  at  something,  and  secondly,  that  the  patient  also  devotes 
all  his  will-power  to  the  service  of  the  system.  There  are 
patients  who  develop  their  delusions  with  scientific  thorough¬ 
ness,  often  dragging  in  an  immense  material  of  comparison 
and  proof.  Schreber  certainly  belongs  to  this  class.  Others 
do  not  proceed  so  thoroughly  and  learnedly,  but  content  them¬ 
selves  with  heaping  up  synonymous  expressions  for  that  at 
which  they  are  aiming.  The  case  of  the  patient  I  have 
described,  who  assumes  all  kinds  of  titles,  is  a  good  instance 
of  this. 

The  patient  s  unmistakable  striving  to  express  something 
through  and  by  means  of  his  delusion,  Freud  conceives  retro¬ 
spectively,  as  the  satisfaction  of  his  infantile  wishes  by  means 
of  imagination.  Adler  reduces  it  to  the  desire  for  power. 

1  Nietzsche,  “  Thus  spake  Zarathustra.” 


344 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


For  him  the  delusion-formation  is  a  “  manly  protest,”  a 
means  of  gaining  security  for  himself  against  his  menaced 
superiority.  Thus  characterised,  this  struggle  is  likewise 
infantile  and  the  means  employed — the  delusional  creation 
— is  infantile  because  insufficient  for  its  purpose;  one  can 
therefore  understand  why  Freud  declines  to  accept  Adler’s 
point  of  view.  Freud,  rightly  on  the  whole,  subsumes  this 
infantile  struggle  for  power  under  the  concept  of  the  infantile 
w7ish. 

The  constructive  standpoint  is  different.  Here  the  delu¬ 
sional  system  is  neither  infantile  nor,  upon  the  whole,  eo  ipso 
pathological  but  subjective ,  and  hence  justified  within  the 
scope  of  the  subjective.  The  constructive  standpoint  abso¬ 
lutely  denies  the  conception  that  the  subjective  phantasy- 
creation  is  merely  an  infantile  wish,  symbolically  veiled ;  or 
that  it  is  merely  that  in  a  higher  degree ;  it  denies  that  it  is 
a  convulsive  and  egoistic  adhesion  to  the  fiction  of  its  own 
superiority,  in  so  far  as  these  are  to  be  regarded  as  finalistic 
explanations.  The  subjective  activity  of  the  mind  can  be 
judged  from  without,  just  as  one  can,  in  the  end,  so  judge 
everything.  But  this  judgment  is  inadequate,  because  it  is 
the  very  essence  of  the  subjective  that  it  cannot  be  judged 
objectively.  We  cannot  measure  distance  in  pints.  The 
subjective  can  be  only  understood  and  judged  subjectively, 
that  is,  constructively.  Any  other  judgment  is  unfair  and 
does  not  meet  the  question. 

The  absolute  credit  which  the  constructive  standpoint 
confers  upon  the  subjective,  naturally  seems  to  the  “  scien¬ 
tific  ”  spirit  as  an  utter  violation  of  reason.  But  this  scien¬ 
tific  spirit  can  only  take  up  arms  against  it  so  long  as  the 
constructive  is  not  avowedly  subjective .  The  constructive  com¬ 
prehension  also  analyses,  but  it  does  not  reduce .  It  decom¬ 
poses  the  delusion  into  typical  components.  What  is  to  be 
regarded  as  the  type  at  a  given  time  is  shown  from  the  attain¬ 
ment  of  experience  and  knowledge  reached  at  that  time. 

Even  the  most  individual  delusional  systems  are  not  abso¬ 
lutely  unique,  occurring  only  once,  for  they  offer  striking  and 
obvious  analogies  with  other  systems.  From  the  comparati\  e 


THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES 


345 


analysis  of  many  systems  the  typical  formations  are 
drawn.  If  one  can  speak  of  reduction  at  all,  it  is  only  a 
question  of  reduction  to  general  type,  but  not  to  some  uni¬ 
versal  principle  obtained  inductively  or  deductively,  such  as 
“  Sexuality  ”  or  “  Struggle  for  Power.”  This  paralleling 
with  other  typical  formations  only  serves  for  a  widening  of 
the  basis  upon  which  the  construction  is  to  be  built.  If  one 
were  to  proceed  entirely  subjectively  one  would  go  on  con¬ 
structing  in  the  language  of  the  patient  and  in  bis  mental 
range.  One  would  arrive  at  some  structure  which  was  illu¬ 
minating  to  the  patient  and  to  the  investigator  of  the  case  but 
not  to  the  outer  scientific  public.  The  public  would  be  unable 
to  enter  into  the  peculiarities  of  the  speech  and  thought  of 
the  individual  case  in  question  without  further  help. 

The  works  of  the  Zurich  school  referred  to,  contain  careful 
and  detailed  expositions  of  individual  material.  In  these 
materials  there  are  very  many  typical  formations  which  are 
unmistakably  analogies  with  mythological  formations.  There 
arose  from  the  perception  of  this  relationship,  a  new  and 
valuable  source  for  comparative  study.  The  acceptance  of 
the  possibility  of  such  a  comparison  will  not  be  granted  im¬ 
mediately,  but  the  question  is  only  whether  the  materials  to 
be  compared  really  are  similar  or  not.  It  will  also  be  con¬ 
tended  that  pathological  and  mythological  formations  are  not 
immediately  comparable.  But  this  objection  must  not  be 
raised  a  priori,  for  only  a  conscientious  comparison  can  deter¬ 
mine  whether  any  true  parallelism  exists  or  not.  At  the  pre¬ 
sent  moment  all  we  know  is  that  they  are  both  structures  of 
the  imagination  which,  like  all  such  products,  rest  essentially 
upon  the  activity  of  the  unconscious.  Experience  must  teach 
us  whether  such  a  comparison  is  valid.  The  results  hitherto 
obtained  are  so  encouraging  that  further  work  along  these 
lines  seems  to  me  most  hopeful  and  important.  I  made 
practical  use  of  the  constructive  method  in  a  case  which 
Flournoy  published  in  the  Archives  de  Psychologic,  although 
he  did  not  express  anything  about  its  nature  at  that  time. 

1  “  Quelques  faits  d’imagination  creatrice  subconsciente,”  Miss  Miller, 
vol.  V.,  p.  36. 


346 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


The  case  dealt  with  a  rather  neurotic  young  lady  who,  in 
Flournoy’s  publication,  described  how  surprised  she  was  at 
the  connecting  phantasy-formations  which  penetrated  from  the 
unconscious  into  the  conscious.  I  subjected  these  phantasies, 
which  the  lady  herself  reproduced  in  some  detail,  to  my  con¬ 
structive  methods  and  gave  the  results  of  these  investigations 
in  my  book,  “  The  Psychology  of  the  Unconscious.” 

This  book  has,  I  regret  to  say,  met  many  perhaps  in¬ 
evitable  misunderstandings.  But  I  have  had  one  precious 
consolation,  for  my  book  received  the  approval  of  Flournoy 
himself,  who  published  the  original  case  which  he  knew 
personally.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  later  works  will  make 
the  standpoint  of  the  Zurich  school  intelligible  to  a  wider 
public.  Whoever  by  help  of  this  work  has  taken  the 
trouble  to  grasp  the  essence  of  the  constructive  method,  will 
readily  imagine  how  great  are  the  difficulties  of  investigation, 
and  how  much  greater  still  are  the  difficulties  of  objective 
presentation  of  such  investigations. 

Among  the  many  difficulties  and  opportunities  for  mis¬ 
understanding  I  should  like  to  adduce  one  difficulty  which  is 
especially  characteristic.  In  an  intensive  study  of  Schreber’s 
or  any  similar  case,  it  will  be  discovered  that  these  patients 
are  consumed  by  the  desire  for  a  new  world-philosophy 
which  may  be  of  the  most  bizarre  kind.  Their  aim  is 
obviously  to  create  a  system  such  as  will  help  them  in  the 
assimilation  of  unknown  psychical  phenomena,  i.e.  enable 
them  to  adapt  their  own  unconscious  to  the  world.  This 
arrangement  produces  a  subjective  system  which  must  be 
considered  as  a  necessary  transition-stage  on  the  path  to 
the  adaptation  of  their  personality  in  regard  to  the  world  in 
general.  But  the  patient  remains  stationary  at  this  transi¬ 
tory  stage  and  assumes  his  subjective  view  is  the  world’s, 
hence  he  remains  ill.  He  cannot  free  himself  from  his  sub¬ 
jectivism,  and  does  not  find  the  link  to  objective  thinking,  i.e. 
to  society.  He  does  not  reach  the  real  summit  of  self-under¬ 
standing,  for  he  remains  with  a  merely  subjective  understand¬ 
ing  of  himself.  But  a  mere  subjective  understanding  is  not 
real  and  adequate.  As  Feuerbach  says  :  Understanding  is  only 


THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES 


847 


real  when  it  is  in  accord  with  that  of  some  other  rational  beings. 
Then  it  becomes  objective  1  and  the  link  with  life  is  reached. 

I  am  convinced  that  not  a  few  will  raise  the  objection  that 
in  the  first  place  the  psychological  process  of  adaptation  does 
not  proceed  by  the  method  of  first  creating  a  world-philosophy  ; 
secondly,  that  it  is  in  itself  a  sign  of  unhealthy  mental  dis¬ 
position  even  to  make  the  attempt  to  adapt  oneself  by  way  of 
a  “  world-philosophy.” 

Undoubtedly  there  are  innumerable  persons  who  are  cap¬ 
able  of  adaptation  without  creating  any  preliminary  philo¬ 
sophy.  If  they  ever  arrive  at  any  general  theory  of  the  world 
it  is  always  subsequently.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  there  are 
just  as  many  who  are  only  able  to  adapt  themselves  by  way 
of  a  preliminary  intellectual  formulation.  To  all  they  do  not 
understand  they  are  unable  to  adapt  themselves.  Generally 
it  comes  about  that  they  do  adapt  themselves  just  in  so  far  as 
they  can  grasp  the  situation  intellectually.  To  these  latter 
seem  to  belong  all  those  patients  to  whom  we  have  been  giving 
our  consideration. 

Medical  experience  has  taught  us  that  there  are  two  large 
groups  of  functional  nervous  disorders.  The  one  embraces 
all  those  forms  of  disease  which  are  designated  hysterical , 
the  other  all  those  forms  which  the  French  school  has  desig¬ 
nated  psychasthenic.  Although  the  line  of  demarcation  is 
rather  uncertain,  one  can  mark  off  two  psychological  types 
which  are  obviously  different ;  their  psychology  is  diametri¬ 
cally  opposed.  I  have  called  these — the  Introverted  and 
Extraverted  types.  The  hysteric  belongs  to  the  type  of  Ex¬ 
traversion ,  the  psychasthenic  to  the  type  of  Introversion ,  as 
does  dementia  praecox,  in  so  far  as  we  know  it  to-day.  This 
terminology,  Introversion  and  Extraversion,  is  bound  up  with 
my  way  of  regarding  mental  phenomena  as  forms  of  energy. 
I  postulate  a  hypothetical  fundamental  striving  which  I  desig¬ 
nate  libido .2  In  the  classical  use  of  the  word,  libido  never 


1  Here  “  objective  ”  understanding  is  not  identical  with  causal  under¬ 
standing. 

“  This  energy  may  also  be  designated  as  horme.  Horm6  is  a  Greek  word 
°PM— force,  attack,  press,  impetuosity,  violence,  urgency,  zeal.  It  is  related 


348 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


had  an  exclusively  sexual  connotation  as  it  has  in  medicine. 
The  word  interest ,  as  Claparede  once  suggested  to  me,  could 
be  used  in  this  special  sense,  if  this  expression  had  to-day 
a  less  extensive  application.  Bergson’s  concept,  elan  vital , 
would  also  serve  if  this  expression  were  less  biological  and 
more  psychological.  Libido  is  intended  to  be  an  energising 
expression  for  psychological  values.  The  psychological  value 
is  something  active  and  determining;  hence  it  can  be  re¬ 
garded  from  the  energic  standpoint  without  any  pretence  of 
exact  measurement. 

The  introverted  type  is  characterised  by  the  fact  that  his 
libido  is  turned  towards  his  own  personality  to  a  certain 
extent — he  finds  within  himself  the  unconditioned  value. 
The  extraverted  type  has  his  libido  to  a  certain  extent  exter¬ 
nally  ;  he  finds  the  unconditioned  value  outside  himself.  The 
introvert  regards  everything  from  the  aspect  of  his  own  per¬ 
sonality  ;  the  extravert  is  dependent  upon  the  value  of  his 
object.  I  must  emphasise  the  statement  that  this  question 
of  types  is  the  question  of  our  psychology,  and  that  every 
further  advance  must  probably  proceed  by  way  of  this  ques¬ 
tion.  The  difference  between  these  types  is  almost  alarm¬ 
ing  in  extent.  So  far  there  is  only  one  small  preliminary 
communication  by  myself1  on  this  theory  of  type,  which 
is  particularly  important  for  the  conception  of  dementia 
prsecox.  On  the  psychiatric  side  Gross2  has  called  attention 
to  the  existence  of  two  psychological  types.  His  two  types 
are  (1)  those  with  limited  but  deep  consciousness,  and  (2) 
those  with  broad  but  superficial  consciousness.  The  former 
correspond  to  my  introverted  and  the  latter  to  my  extroverted 
type.  In  my  article  I  have  collected  some  other  instances 
among  which  I  would  especially  call  attention  to  the  striking 
description  of  the  two  types  given  by  William  James  in  his 
book  on  “Pragmatism.”  Fr.  Th.  Yischer  has  differentiated 
the  two  types  very  wittily  by  her  division  of  the  learned  into 

to  Bergson’s  “  61an  vital.”  The  concept  horm6  is  an  energic  expression  for 
psychological  values. 

1  See  p.  287. 

2  “  Die  zeerbrale  Sekundarfunktion.”  Leipzig,  1902. 


THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES 


849 


“reason-mongers,”  and  “matter-mongers.”  In  the  sphere 
of  psychoanalysis  Freud  follows  the  psychology  of  Extra¬ 
version,  Adler  that  of  Introversion.  The  irreconcilable  oppo¬ 
sition  between  the  views  of  Freud  and  those  of  Adler  (see 
especially  his  book  “  Uber  den  nervosen  Charakter”)  is 
readily  explained  by  the  existence  of  two  diametrically  opposed 
psychological  types  which  view  the  same  things  from  entirely 
different  aspects.  An  Extravert  can  hardly,  or  only  with 
great  difficulty,  come  to  any  understanding  with  an  Introvert, 
on  any  delicate  psychological  question. 

An  Extravert  can  hardly  conceive  the  necessity  which 
compels  the  Introvert  to  conquer  the  world  by  means  of  a 
system.  And  yet  this  necessity  exists,  otherwise  we  should 
have  no  philosophical  systems  and  dogmas,  presumed  to  be 
universally  valid.  Civilised  humanity  would  be  only  empiricists 
and  the  sciences  only  the  experimental  sciences.  Causalism 
and  empiricism  are  undoubtedly  mighty  forces  in  our  present- 
day  mental  life,  but  it  may  come  to  be  otherwise. 

This  difference  in  type  is  the  first  great  obstacle  which 
stands  in  the  way  of  an  understanding  concerning  fundamental 
conceptions  of  our  psychology.  A  second  objection  arises 
from  the  circumstance  that  the  constructive  method,  faithful 
to  itself,  must  adapt  itself  to  the  lines  of  the  delusion.  The 
direction  along  which  the  patient  develops  his  morbid  thoughts 
has  to  be  accepted  seriously,  and  followed  out  to  its  end ; 
the  investigator  thus  places  himself  at  the  standpoint  of  the 
psychosis.  This  procedure  may  expose  him  to  the  suspicion 
of  being  deranged  himself ;  or  at  least  risks  a  misunderstand¬ 
ing  which  is  considered  terribly  disgraceful — he  may  himself 
have  some  world-philosophy !  The  confirmation  of  such  a 
possibility  is  as  bad  as  being  “  unscientific.”  But  every  one 
has  a  world-philosophy  though  not  every  one  knows  he  has. 
And  those  who  do  not  know  it  have  simply  an  unconscious 
and  therefore  inadequate  and  archaic  philosophy.  But  every¬ 
thing  psychological  that  is  allowed  to  remain  in  the  mind 
neglected  and  not  developed,  remains  in  a  primitive  state. 
A  striking  instance  of  how  universal  theories  are  influenced 
by  unconscious  archaic  points  of  view  has  been  furnished  by 


850 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


a  famous  German  historian  whose  name  matters  to  us  not 
at  all.  This  historian  took  it  for  granted  that  once  upon 
a  time  people  propagated  themselves  through  incest,  for 
in  the  first  human  families  the  brother  was  assigned  to  the 
sister.  This  theory  is  wholly  based  upon  his  still  unconscious 
belief  in  Adam  and  Eve  as  the  first  and  only  parents  of  man¬ 
kind.  It  is  on  the  whole  better  to  discover  for  oneself  a 
modern  world-philosophy,  or  at  least  to  make  use  of  some 
decent  system  which  will  prevent  any  errors  of  that  kind. 

One  could  put  up  with  being  despised  as  the  possessor  of 
a  world-philosophy ;  but  there  is  a  greater  danger.  The 
public  may  come  to  believe  the  philosophy,  beaten  out  by  the 
constructive  method,  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  theoretical  and 
objectively  valid  insight  into  the  meaning  of  the  world  in 
general. 

I  must  now  again  point  out  that  it  is  an  obstinate, 
scholastic  misunderstanding  not  to  he  able  to  distinguish 
between  a  world-philosophy  which  is  only  psychological,  and 
an  extra-psychological  theory,  which  concerns  the  objective 
thing.  It  is  absolutely  essential  that  the  student  of  the 
results  of  the  constructive  method  should  be  able  to  draw  this 
distinction.  In  its  first  results  the  constructive  method  does 
not  produce  anything  that  could  be  called  a  scientific  theory ; 
it  furnishes  the  psychological  lines  of  development ,  a  path  so  to 
say.  I  must  here  refer  the  reader  to  my  book. 

The  analytic  reductive  method  has  the  advantage  of  being 
much  simpler  than  the  constructive  method.  The  former 
reduces  to  well-known  universal  elements  of  an  extremely 
simple  nature.  The  latter  has,  with  extremely  complicated 
material,  to  construct  the  further  path  to  some  often  unknown 
end.  This  obliges  the  psychologist  to  take  full  account  of  all 
those  forces  which  are  at  work  in  the  human  mind.  The 
reductive  method  strives  to  replace  the  religious  and  philo¬ 
sophical  needs  of  man,  by  their  more  elementary  components, 
following  the  principle  of  the  “nothing  but,”  as  James  so 
aptly  calls  it.  But  to  construct  aright,  we  must  accept  the 
developed  aspirations  as  indispensable  components,  essential 
elements,  of  spiritual  growth.  Such  work  extends  far  beyond 


851 


THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  PSYCHOSES 

empirical  concepts,  but  that  is  in  accordance  with  the  nature 
of  the  human  soul,  which  has  never  hitherto  rested  content 
with  experience  alone.  Everything  new  in  the  human  mind 
proceeds  from  speculation.  Mental  development  proceeds  by 
way  of  speculation,  never  by  way  of  limitation  to  mere  experi¬ 
ence.  I  realise  that  my  views  are  parallel  with  those  of 
Bergson,  and  that  in  my  book  the  concept  of  the  libido  which 
I  have  given,  is  a  concept  parallel  to  that  of  “  elan  vital  ” ; 
my  constructive  method  corresponds  to  Bergson’s  “intuitive 
method.”  I,  however,  confine  myself  to  the  psychological 
side  and  to  practical  work.  When  I  first  read  Bergson  a 
year  and  a  half  ago  I  discovered  to  my  great  pleasure  every¬ 
thing  which  I  had  worked  out  practically,  but  expressed  by 
him  in  consummate  language  and  in  a  wonderfully  clear 
philosophic  style. 

Working  speculatively  with  psychological  material  there 

I  is  a  risk  of  being  sacrificed  to  the  general  misunderstanding 
which  bestows  the  value  of  an  objective  theory  upon  the  line 
of  psychological  evolution  thus  elaborated.  So  many  people 
feel  themselves  in  this  way  at  pains  to  find  grounds  whether 
such  a  theory  is  correct  or  not.  Those  who  are  particularly 
brilliant  even  discover  that  the  fundamental  concepts  can  be 
traced  back  to  Heraclitus  or  some  one  even  earlier.  Let  me 
confide  to  these  knowing  folk  that  the  fundamental  ideas 
employed  in  the  constructive  method  stretch  back  even  beyond 
any  historical  philosophy,  viz.  to  the  dynamic  “views”  of 
primitive  peoples.  If  the  result  of  the  constructive  method 
were  scientific  theory,  it  would  go  very  ill  with  it,  for  then  it 
would  be  a  falling  back  to  the  deepest  superstition.  But 
since  the  constructive  method  results  in  something  far  re¬ 
moved  from  scientific  theory  the  great  antiquity  of  the  basic 
concepts  therein  must  speak  in  favour  of  its  extreme  correct¬ 
ness.  Not  until  the  constructive  method  has  presented  us 
with  much  practical  experience  can  we  come  to  the  construc¬ 
tion  of  a  scientific  theory,  a  theory  of  the  psychological  lines  of 
development.  But  we  must  first  of  all  content  ourselves  with 
confirming  these  lines  individually. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

NEW  PATHS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY 

In  common  with  other  sciences,  psychology  had  to  go  through 
its  scholastic-philosophic  stage,  and  to  some  extent  this  has 
lasted  on  into  the  present  time.  This  philosophic  psychology 
has  incurred  our  condemnation  in  that  it  decides  ex  cathedra 
what  is  the  nature  of  the  soul,  and  whence  and  how  it  derives  its 
attributes.  The  spirit  of  modern  scientific  investigation  has 
summarily  disposed  of  all  these  phantasies  and  in  their  place 
has  established  an  exact  empiric  method.  We  owe  to  this  our 
present-day  experimental  psychology  or  “ psychophysiology 
as  the  French  call  it.  This  new  direction  originated  with 
Fechner,  that  Janus-minded  spirit,  who  in  his  remarkable 
Psychophysik  (1860)  embarked  on  the  mighty  enterprise  of 
introducing  the  physical  standpoint  into  the  conception  of 
psychical  phenomena.  The  whole  idea  of  this  work — and  not 
least  its  astonishing  mistakes — proved  most  fruitful  in  results. 
For  Wundt,  Fechner’s  young  contemporary,  carried  on  his 
work,  and  it  is  Wundt’s  great  erudition,  enormous  power  of 
work  and  genius  for  elaborating  methods  of  experimental 
research,  which  have  given  to  modern  psychology  its  prevailing 
direction. 

Until  quite  recently  experimental  psychology  remained 
essentially  academic.  The  first  notable  attempt  to  utilise  some 
few  at  any  rate  of  its  innumerable  experimental  methods  in 
the  service  of  practical  psychology  came  from  the  psychiatrists 
of  the  former  Heidelberg  school  (Kraepelin,  Aschaffenburg,  etc.); 
it  is  quite  intelligible  that  the  psychotherapists  should  be 
the  first  to  feel  the  urgent  need  for  more  exact  knowledge  of 
psychic  processes. 


NEW  PATHS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY  353 

Next  came  pedagogy,  making  its  own  demands  upon 
psychology.  Out  of  this  has  recently  grown  up  an  “  experi¬ 
mental  pedagogy,”  and  in  this  field  Neumann  in  Germany 
and  Binet  in  France  have  rendered  signal  services.  The 
physician,  the  so-called  “nerve-specialist,”  has  the  most 
urgent  need  of  psychological  knowledge  if  he  would  really 
elp  his  patients,  for  neurotic  disturbances,  such  as  hysteria, 
and  all  things  classed  as  “  nervousness,”  are  of  psychic  origin' 
an  necessarily  demand  psychic  treatment.  Cold  water,  light 
air  electricity,  magnetism,  etc.,  are  only  effective  temporarily’ 
and  quite  often  are  of  no  use  at  all.  They  are  frequently 
introduced  into  treatment  in  a  not  very  commendable  fashion 
simply  because  reliance  is  placed  upon  their  suggestive  effect! 
But  it  is  m  his  soul  that  the  patient  is  really  sick ;  in  those 
most  complicated  and  lofty  functions  which  we  scarcely  dare 
to  include  in  the  province  of  medicine.  The  doctor  must 
needs  in  such  a  ease,  be  a  psychologist,  must  needs  under¬ 
stand  the  human  soul.  He  cannot  evade  the  urgent  demand 
upon  him.  So  he  naturally  turns  for  help  to  psychology,  since 
his  psychiatry  text-books  have  nothing  to  offer  him.  But 
modern  experimental  psychology  is  very  far  from  being  able 
to  afford  him  any  connected  insight  into  the  most  vital 
psychic  processes,  that  is  not  its  aim.  As  far  as  possible  it 
tries  to  isolate  those  simple  elementary  phenomena  which 
border  on  the  physiological,  and  then  study  them  in  an  isolated 
state.  It  quite  ignores  the  infinite  variation  and  movement  of 
the  mental  life  of  the  individual,  and  accordingly,  its  knowledge 
and  its  facts  are  so  many  isolated  details,  uninspired  by  anv 
comprehensive  idea  capable  of  bringing  them  into  co-ordina- 
tion.  Hence  it  comes  about  that  the  inquirer  after  the  secrets 
of  the  human  soul,  learns  rather  less  than  nothing  from  ex¬ 
perimental  psychology.  He  would  be  better  advised  to  abandon 
exact  science  take  off  his  scholar’s  gown,  say  farewell  to  his 
study,  and  then,  strong  in  manly  courage,  set  out  to  wander 
through  the  world ;  alike  through  the  horrors  of  prisons,  lunatic 
asyiums  and  hospitals,  through  dreary  outlying  taverns, 
through  brothels  and  gambling-hells,  into  elegant  drawing¬ 
rooms,  the  Stock  Exchanges,  socialist  meetings,  churches, 

23 


354 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


revival  gatherings  of  strange  religious  sects,  experiencing  in 
his  own  person  love  and  hate  and  every  kind  of  suffering. 
He  would  return  laden  with  richer  knowledge  than  his  yard- 
long  text-books  could  ever  have  given  him,  and  thus  equipped, 
he  can  indeed  be  a  physician  to  his  patients,  for  he  under¬ 
stands  the  soul  of  man.  He  may  be  pardoned  if  his  respect 
for  the  “corner-stones”  of  experimental  psychology  is  no 
longer  very  considerable.  There  is  a  great  gulf  fixed  between 
what  science  calls  “psychology,”  on  the  one  hand,  and  what 
the  practice  of  everyday  life  expects  from  psychology  on  the 

other. 

This  need  became  the  starting-point  of  a  new  psychology 
whose  inception  we  owe  first  and  foremost  to  the  genius  of 
Sigmund  Freud,  of  Vienna,  to  his  researches  into  functional 
nervous  disease.  The  new  type  of  psychology  might  be  de¬ 
scribed  as  “  analytical  psychology.”  Professor  Bleuler  has 
coined  the  name  “Deep  Psychology,”1  to  indicate  that  the 
Freudian  psychology  takes  as  its  province  the  deeper  regions, 
the  “  hinterland  ”  of  the  soul,  the  “  unconscious.” ,  Freud 
names  his  method  of  investigation  “  psychoanalysis,”  and  it 
is  under  this  designation  that  this  new  direction  in  psycho¬ 
logy  is  now  everywhere  recognised. 

Before  we  approach  the  matter  more  closely,  we  must  first 
consider  the  relationship  of  the  new  psychology  to  the  earlier 
science.  Here  we  encounter  a  singular  little  farce  which  once 
again  proves  the  truth  of  Anatole  France’s  apothegm  :  “  Les 

savants  ne  sont  pas  curieux.” 

The  first  important  piece  of  work2  in  this  new  field 
awakened  only  the  faintest  echo,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it 
offered  a  new  and  fundamental  conception  of  the  neuroses. 
Certain  writers  expressed  their  approbation,  and  then,  on  the 
next  page,  proceeded  to  explain  their  cases  of  hysteria  in  the 
good  old  way.  It  was  much  as  if  a  man  should  subscribe  fully 
to  the  idea  of  the  earth’s  being  spherical,  and  yet  continue  to 


>  Bleuler,  “  Die  Psychoanalyse  Freuds.”  Jahrbttcli  fiir  psychoanalytic 

“rr’and  F^uT”  selected  Papers  on  Hysteria  and  other  Psycho- 
neuroses.”  “  Nervous  and  Mental  Disease,”  Monograph  series,  No.  4. 


NEW  PATHS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY  355 

represent  it  as  flat.  Freud’s  next  publications1  were  practi¬ 
cally  unnoticed,  although  they  contributed  findings  of  im¬ 
measurable  importance  to  the  domain  of  psychiatry.  When 
m  1900  he  produced  the  first  real  psychological  elucidation 
of  the  dream,2  (previously  there  had  reigned  over  this  territory 
a  suitable  nocturnal  darkness),  he  was  ridiculed ;  and  when 
m  the  middle  of  the  last  decade  he  began  to  illumine  the 
psychology  of  sexuality  itself,3  and  at  the  same  time  the 
“  Zurich  school”  decided  to  range  itself  on  his  side,  a  storm 
of  abuse,  sometimes  of  the  coarsest  kind,  burst  upon  him, 
nor  has  it  yet  ceased  to  rage.  At  the  last  South-west 
German  Congress  of  alienists  in  Baden-Baden,  the  adherents 
of  the  new  psychology  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  Hoche, 
University  Professor  of  Psychiatry  at  Freiburg  in  Breisgau’ 
escribe  the  movement  in  a  long  and  much-applauded 
address,  as  an  outbreak  of  mental  aberration  among  doctors . 
The  old  proverb:  “Medicus  medicum  non  decimat  ”  was 
here  quite  put  to  shame.  How  carefully  the  question  had 
been  studied  was  shewn  by  the  naive  remark  of  one  of  the 
most  distinguished  neurologists  of  Paris,  which  I  myself  heard 
at  the  International  Congress  in  1907 :  “  It  is  true  I  have  not 
read  Freud’s  works  (he  did  not  happen  to  know  any  German  !), 
but  as  for  his  theories,  they  are  nothing  but  a  “  mauvaise 
plaisanterie.”  Freud,  dignified,  masterly,  once  said  to  me, 

“ 1  first  became  clearly  conscious  of  the  value  of  my  discoveries' 
when  they  were  met  everywhere  with  resistance  and  anger ; 
since  that  time  I  have  judged  the  value  of  my  work  according 
to  the  degree  of  opposition  provoked.  It  is  against  my  sexual 
theory  that  the  greatest  indignation  is  felt,  so  it  would  seem 
therein  lies  my  best  work.  Perhaps  after  all  the  real  bene¬ 
factors  of  mankind  are  its  false  teachers,  for  opposition  to  the 
false  doctrine  pushes  men  willy  nilly  into  truth.  Your  truth- 
teller  is  a  pernicious  fellow,  he  drives  men  into  error.” 

The  reader  must  now  calmly  accept  the  idea  that  in  this 

1  Freud,  “  Sammlung  kleiner  Schriften  zur  Neurosenlehre.”  Deuticke  * 
Wien. 

2  Freud,  “  The  Interpretation  of  Dreams.”  George  Allen. 

3  Freud,  “  Three  Contributions  to  the  SexuaLTheory,”  Monograph  Series. 


356 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


psychology  he  is  dealing  with  something  quite  unique,  if  not 
indeed  with  some  altogether  irrational,  sectarian,  or  occult 
wisdom  ;  for  what  else  could  possibly  provoke  all  the  scientific 
authorities  to  turn  away  on  the  very  threshold  and  utterly 
refuse  to  cross  it  ? 

Accordingly,  we  must  look  more  closely  into  this  psycho¬ 
logy.  As  long  ago  as  Charcot’s  time  it  was  recognised  that 
neurotic  symptoms  are  “  psychogenic,”  that  is,  that  they  have 
their  origin  in  the  psyche.  It  was  also  known,  thanks  mainly 
to  the  work  of  the  Nancy  School,  that  every  hysterical  symptom 
can  be  exactly  reproduced  by  means  of  suggestion.  But  how 
a  hysterical  system  arises,  and  its  relationship  to  psychic 
causes,  were  altogether  unknown.  In  the  beginning  of  the 
’eighties  Dr.  Breuer,  an  old  Viennese  doctor,  made  a  dis¬ 
covery  1  which  was  really  the  true  starting-point  of  the  new 
psychology.  He  had  a  very  intelligent  young  patient  (a  woman) 
suffering  from  hysteria,  who  exhibited  the  following  symptoms 
among  others :  A  spastic  paralysis  of  the  right  arm,  occa¬ 
sional  disturbances  of  consciousness  or  twilight-states,  and 
loss  of  the  power  of  speech  in  so  far  as  she  no  longer  retained 
any  knowledge  of  her  mother-tongue,  and  could  only  express 
herself  in  English  (so-called  systematic  aphasia) .  They  sought 
at  that  time,  and  still  seek,  in  such  a  case  to  establish  some 
theory  of  anatomical  disturbance,  although  there  was  just  as 
little  disturbance  in  the  arm-centre  in  the  brain  as  in  that  of 
any  normal  man  who  boxes  another’s  ears.  The  symptom¬ 
atology  of  hysteria  is  full  of  anatomical  impossibilities ;  such 
as  the  case  of  the  lady  who  had  lost  her  hearing  completely 
through  some  hysterical  malady.  None  the  less  she  often 
used  to  sing,  and  once  when  she  was  singing  her  doctor  sat 
down  at  the  piano  unnoticed  by  her  and  softly  accompanied 
her.  Passing  from  one  strophe  to  another  he  suddenly  altered 
the  key,  and  she,  quite  unconscious  of  what  she  was  doing, 
sang  on  in  the  altered  key.  Thus  she  heard— yet  did  not  hear. 
The  various  forms  of  systematic  blindness  present  similar 
phenomena.  We  have  the  case  of  a  man  suffeiing  fiom  com 
plete  hysterical  blindness.  In  the  course  of  the  treatment  he 

1  Cp.  Breuer  and  Freud,  “  Selected  Papers  on  Hysteria.” 


NEW  PATHS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY  357 

recovers  his  sight,  but  at  first,  and  for  some  long  time,  only  par¬ 
tially  :  he  could  see  everything  with  one  exception— people’s 
heads.  He  saw  all  the  people  around  him  without  heads. 
Thus  he  saw— yet  did  not  see.  From  a  large  number  of  like  ex¬ 
periences  it  has  long  been  concluded  that  it  is  only  the  patient's 
consciousness  which  does  not  see,  does  not  hear,  but  the  sense- 
function  has  nothing  at  all  the  matter  with  it.  This  state  of 
affairs  is  directly  contradictory  to  the  essence  of  an  organic 
disturbance,  which  always,  to  some  extent  involves  the  function 
After  this  digression  let  us  return  to  Breuer’s  case.  Since 
there  was  no  organic  cause  for  the  disturbance,  the  case  was 
clearly  to  be  regarded  as  hysterical,  that  is,  psychogenic.  Dr. 

reuer  had  noticed  that  if  during  her  twilight-states  (whether 
spontaneous  or  artificially  induced)  he  let  the  patient  freely 
express  the  reminiscences  and  phantasies  that  thronged  in 
upon  her,  her  condition  was  afterwards  much  improved  for 
some  hours.  He  made  systematic  use  of  this  observation  in  her 
further  treatment.  The  patient  herself  invented  the  appropriate 
name  for  it  of  “  talking  cure  ”  or,  in  jest,  “  chimney  sweeping.” 

Her  illness  began  whilst  she  was  nursing  her  dying  father, 
t  is  easy  to  understand  that  her  phantasies  busied  themselves 
mainly  with  this  disturbing  time.  In  the  twilight-states 
memories  of  this  period  reappeared  with  photographic  fidelity, 
distinct  m  every  detail :  no  waking  recollection  is  ever  so 
plastically  and  exactly  reproduced.  The  term  hypermnesia  is 
applied  to  this  heightening  of  the  power  of  memory,  which 
occurs  without  difficulty  in  certain  states  of  contracted  con¬ 
sciousness.  Bemarkable  things  now  came  to  light.  Out  of 
the  many  things  told,  one  ran  somewhat  as  follows.1 

On  a  certain  night  she  was  in  a  state  of  great  anxiety  about 
her  father  s  high  temperature.  She  sat  by  his  bed,  waiting 
for  the  surgeon  who  was  coming  from  Vienna  to  perform  an 
operation  Her  mother  had  gone  out  of  the  room  for  a  little 
while,  and  Anna  (the  patient)  sat  by  the  bed,  with  her  right 
irm  hanging  over  the  back  of  her  chair.  She  fell  into  a  kind 
if  waking-dream  in  which  she  saw  a  black  snake  come  out 

leuro^es  ”6r  ^  “SeleC‘6d  »  Hysteria  and  other  Psycho- 


858  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

from  the  wall  and  approach  the  sick  man,  prepared  to  bite. 
(It  is  very  probable  that  some  real  snakes  had  been  seen  in 
the  fields  behind  the  house,  and  that  she  had  been  frightened 
by  them  ;  this  would  furnish  the  material  for  her  hallucina 
tion.)  She  wanted  to  drive  the  creature  away,  but  felt 
paralysed ;  her  right  arm,  hanging  over  the  chair,  had  “  gone 
to  sleep,”  was  anaesthetic  and  paretic,  and  as  she  looked 
her  fingers  turned  into  little  snakes  with  death  s  heads  (the 
nails).  Probably  she  tried  to  drive  the  snake  away  with  her 
paralysed  right  hand,  and  thereby  the  anaesthesia  and  paralysis 
became  associated  with  the  snake-hallucination.  Even  after 
the  snake  had  disappeared,  her  terror  remained  great.  She 
tried  to  pray,  but  found  she  had  no  words  in  any  language, 
until  at  length  she  managed  to  remember  some  English 
nursery  rhymes,  and  then  she  could  go  on  thinking  and  pray¬ 
ing  in  that  language. 

This  was  the  actual  scene  in  which  the  paralysis  and 
speech-disturbance  arose  ;  the  describing  it  served  to  remove 
the  speech-trouble,  and  in  this  same  fashion  the  case  was 
finally  completely  cured. 

I  must  restrict  myself  to  this  one  instance.  In  Bieuer 
and  Freud’s  book  there  is  a  wealth  of  similar  examples.  It 
is  easy  to  understand  that  scenes  such  as  these  make  a  veiy 
strong  impression,  and  accordingly  there  is  an  inclination  to 
attribute  a  causal  significance  to  them  in  the  genesis  of  the 
symptoms.  The  then  current  conception  of  hysteria,  arising 
from  the  English  “nervous  shock”  theory,  which  Charcot 
strongly  supported,  came  in  conveniently  to  elucidate  Breuer’s 
discovery,  hence  arose  the  trauma-tlieory  maintaining  that 
the  hysterical  symptom  and,  in  so  far  as  the  symptoms  com¬ 
prise  the  disease,  hysteria  itself,  arises  from  some  psyscliic 
injury  (or  trauma ),  the  effect  of  which  is  retained  in  the 
unconscious  indefinitely.  Freud,  working  as  Breuer  s  col¬ 
league,  amply  confirmed  this  discovery.  It  was  fully  demon¬ 
strated  that  not  one  out  of  the  many  hundred  hysterical 
symptoms  came  down  ready  made  from  heaven;  they  had 
already  been  conditioned  by  past  psychic  experiences.  To 
some  extent,  therefore,  this  new  conception  opened  up  a  field 


NEW  PATHS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY 


359 


of  very  important  empirical  work.  But  Freud’s  tireless 
spirit  of  inquiry  could  not  long  rest  content  at  this  superficial 
layer,  since  already  there  obtruded  deeper  and  more  difficult 
problems.  It  is  obvious  enough  that  moments  of  great  fear 
and  anxiety,  such  as  Breuer’s  patient  went  through,  would 
leave  behind  a  lasting  effect,  but  how  is  it  that  these  happen¬ 
ings  are  themselves  already  deeply  stamped  with  the  mark  of 

I  morbidity  ?  Must  we  suppose  that  the  trying  sick-nursing  in 
itself  produce  such  a  result  ?  If  so,  such  effects  should  occur 
much  more  frequently,  for  there  are,  unfortunately,  many 
trying  cases  of  sick-nursing,  and  the  nurse’s  nervous  con¬ 
stitution  is  by  no  means  always  of  the  soundest.  To  this 
problem  medicine  gives  its  admirable  answer ;  the  “  x  ”  in 
the  calculation  is  predisposition ;  there  is  a  tendency  to  these 
things.  But  for  Freud  the  problem  was,  what  exactly  con¬ 
stitutes  this  predisposition?  This  question  led  logically  to 
an  investigation  of  all  that  had  preceded  the  psychic  trauma. 
It  is  a  matter  of  common  observation  that  distressing  scenes 
have  markedly  different  effects  upon  the  different  partici¬ 
pants,  and  that  things  which  to  some  are  quite  indifferent 
or  even  pleasant,  such  as  frogs,  mice,  snakes,  cats,  excite  the 
greatest  aversion  in  others.  There  are  the  cases  of  women 
who  can  calmly  be  present  at  a  very  bad  operation,  but  who 
tremble  all  over  with  horror  and  nausea  at  the  touch  of  a 
cat.  By  way  of  illustration  let  me  give  the  case  of  a  young 

Ilady  suffering  from  severe  hysteria  following  a  sudden  fright.1 
She  had  been  at  a  social  gathering,  and  was  on  her  way 
home  at  midnight  accompanied  by  several  acquaintances, 
when  a  carriage  came  up  behind  them  at  full  speed.  All 

I  the  others  moved  out  of  the  way,  but  she,  beside  herself  with 
fright,  ran  down  the  middle  of  the  road  just  in  front  of  the 
horses.  The  coachman  cracked  his  whip  and  cursed  and 
swore  in  vain.  She  ran  down  the  whole  length  of  the  street 
till  a  bridge  was  reached.  There  her  strength  failed  her,  and 
to  escape  the  horses’  feet  in  her  despair  she  would  have 
jumped  into  the  water  had  not  passers-by  prevented  her. 

1  For  further  particulars  of  this  case  see  Jung,  “The  Theory  of  Psycho¬ 
analysis.” 


860 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


This  same  lady  happened  to  be  in  Petrograd  during  that  san¬ 
guinary  Revolution  of  the  22nd  of  January,  and  saw  a  street 
cleared  by  the  volleys  of  soldiers.  All  around  her  people 
were  dropping  down  dead  or  wounded,  but  she  retained  her 
calmness  and  self-possession,  and  caught  sight  of  a  door 
which  gave  her  escape  into  another  street.  These  terrible 
moments  agitated  her  neither  at  the  time  nor  later  on.  She 
was  quite  well  afterwards,  indeed  felt  better  than  usual. 

Essentially  similar  reactions  can  quite  often  be  observed. 
Hence  it  follows  that  the  intensity  of  the  trauma  is  of  small 
pathogenic  importance ;  the  peculiar  circumstances  determine 
its  pathogenic  effect.  Here,  then,  we  have  the  key  which 
enables  us  to  unlock  at  least  one  of  the  anterooms  to  an 
understanding  of  predisposition.  We  must  now  ask  what 
were  the  unusual  circumstances  in  this  carriage  scene  ?  The 
terror  and  apprehension  began  as  soon  as  the  lady  heard  the 
trampling  horses.  For  a  moment  she  thought  this  portended 
some  terrible  fate,  her  death,  or  something  equally  frightful ; 
the  next,  she  lost  all  sense  of  what  she  was  doing. 

This  powerful  impression  was  evidently  connected  in  some 
way  with  the  horses.  The  predisposition  of  the  patient  to 
react  in  such  an  exaggerated  fashion  to  a  not  very  remark¬ 
able  incident,  might  result  from  the  fact  that  horses  had  some 
special  significance  for  her.  It  might  be  suspected  that  she 
had  experienced  some  dangerous  accident  with  them ;  this 
actually  turned  out  to  be  the  case.  When  a  child  of  about 
seven  years  old  she  was  out  for  a  drive  with  the  coachman ; 
the  horses  shied  and  galloped  at  full  speed  towards  a  steep 
river-bank.  The  coachman  jumped  down,  and  shouted  to 
her  to  do  the  same,  but  in  her  extreme  terror  she  could  scarcely 
bring  herself  to  obey.  She  did,  however,  just  manage  to 
jump  out  in  the  nick  of  time,  whilst  the  horses  and  carriage 
were  dashed  to  pieces  below.  No  proof  is  needed  that  such 
an  experience  must  leave  a  lasting  impression  behind  it. 
But  it  does  not  offer  any  explanation  for  such  an  exaggerated 
reaction  to  an  inadequate  stimulus.  So  far  we  only  know 
that  this  later  symptom  had  its  prologue  in  childhood,  but 
its  pathological  aspect  remains  obscure.  To  penetrate  into 


361 


NEW  PATHS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY 

the  heart  of  such  a  mystery  it  was  necessary  to  accumulate 
further  material.  And  the  greater  our  experience  the  clearer 
does  it  become  that  in  all  cases  with  such  traumatic  experi¬ 
ences  analysed  up  to  the  present,  there  co-exists  a  special  kind 
of  distuibance  which  can  only  be  described  as  a  derangement 
in  the  sphere  of  love.  Not  all  of  us  give  due  credit  to  the 
anomalous  nature  of  love,  reaching  high  as  heaven,  sinking 

low  as  hell,  uniting  in  itself  all  extremes  of  good  and  evil,  of 
lofty  and  low.1 

As  soon  as  Freud  recognised  this,  a  decisive  change  came 
about  in  his  view.  In  his  earlier  researches,  whilst  more  or 
less  dominated  by  Charcot’s  trauma-theory,  he  had  sought 
for  the  origin  of  the  neurosis  in  actual  traumatic  experiences  ; 
but  now  the  centre  of  gravity  shifted  to  a  very  different  point. 
This  is  best  demonstrated  by  reference  to  our  case ;  we  can 
understand  that  horses  might  easily  play  a  significant  part  in 
the  patient’s  life,  but  it  is  not  clear  why  there  should  be  this 
later  reaction,  so  exaggerated,  so  uncalled  for.  It  is  not  her 
fear  of  horses  which  forms  the  morbid  factor  in  this  curious 
stoiy ;  to  get  at  the  real  truth  we  must  remember  our  empirical 
conclusion,  that,  side  by  side  with  traumatic  experiences,  there 
is  also  invariably  present  some  disturbance  in  the  sphere  of 
love.  We  must  now  go  on  to  inquire  whether  perhaps  there 

is  anything  unsatisfactory  in  this  respect  in  the  case  under 
review. 

Our  patient  has  a  young  man  friend,  to  whom  she  is 
thinking  of  becoming  engaged,  she  loves  him  and  expects  to 
be  happy  with  him.  At  first  nothing  more  is  discoverable  ; 
but  the  investigator  must  not  let  himself  be  deterred  by  a 
negative  result  in  the  beginning  of  this  preliminary  question¬ 
ing..  When  the  direct  way  does  not  lead  to  the  desired  end, 
an  indirect  way  may  be  taken.  We  accordingly  turn  our 
attention  back  to  that  strange  moment  when  she  ran  away  in 
front  of  the  horses.  We  inquire  who  were  her  companions 

,  . 1  ^may  sti11  aPPly  to  love  the  saying  :  “The  heaven  above,  the  heaven 
below,  The  sky  above,  the  sky  below,  All  things  above,  all  things  below,  Succeed 
an  prosper  (Old  Mystic).  Mephistopheles  expresses  the  idea  when  he 
escribes  himself  as  “  Part  of  that  power  which  still  produceth  good,  whilst 
ever  scheming  ill.” 


362 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


and  what  kind  of  social  gathering  was  it,  and  find  it  was  a 
farewell-party  to  her  best  friend,  on  her  departure  to  a  foieign 
health-resort  on  account  of  a  nervous  break-down.  Y  e  are 
told  this  friend  is  happily  married  and  is  the  mother  of  one 
child.  We  may  well  doubt  the  assertion  that  she  is  happy. 
If  she  really  were  so,  it  is  hardly  to  be  supposed  she  would 
be  “  nervous  ”  and  in  need  of  a  cure.  When  I  attacked  the 
situation  from  a  different  vantage-ground,  I  learnt  that  oui 
patient — after  this  episode — had  been  taken  by  her  friends  to 
the  nearest  safe  place — her  host’s  house.  In  her  exhausted 
state  he  took  charge  of  her.  When  the  patient  came  to  this 
part  of  her  story,  she  suddenly  broke  off,  was  embarrassed, 
fidgeted  and  tried  to  turn  the  subject.  Evidently  some  dis¬ 
agreeable  reminiscences  had  suddenly  cropped  up.  After  obsti¬ 
nate  resistances  had  been  overcome,  she  admitted  something 
very  strange  had  happened  that  night.  Her  host  had  made  her 
a  passionate  declaration  of  love,  thus  occasioning  a  situation 
that,  in  the  absence  of  his  wife,  might  well  be  considered  both 
painful  and  difficult.  Ostensibly  this  declaration  came  upon 
her  like  a  “  bolt  from  the  blue.”  But  a  small  dose  of  criticism 
applied  to  such  an  assertion  soon  apprises  us  that  these  things 
never  do  drop  suddenly  from  the  sky ;  they  always  have  their 
previous  history.  It  was  a  task  of  the  following  weeks  to  dig 
out  piecemeal  a  long  love-story.  I  will  attempt  to  sketch  in 

the  picture  as  it  appeared  finally.  f 

As  a  child  the  patient  was  a  thorough  tomboy,  loved  boys 
boisterous  games,  laughed  at  her  own  sex,  and  would  have 
nothing  to  do  with  feminine  ways  or  occupations.  Aftei 
puberty,  just  when  the  sex-issue  should  have  meant  much  to 
her,  she  began  to  shun  all  society ;  she  seemingly  hated  and 
despised  everything  which  could  remind  her  even  lemotely 
of  the  biological  destiny  of  mankind,  and  lived  in  a  world  of 
phantasy  which  had  nothing  in  common  with  rude  reality. 
Thus,  till  her  twenty-fourth  year,  she  escaped  all  the  little 
adventures,  hopes  and  expectations  which  ordinal ily  move  a 
girl  at  this  age.  But  finally  she  got  to  know  the  two  men 
who  were  destined  to  destroy  the  thorny  hedge  which  had 
grown  up  around  her.  Mr.  A.  was  her  best  friend’s  husband  ; 


NEW  PATHS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY 


863 


I  Mr.  B.  was  their  bachelor-friend.  She  liked  both ;  but  pretty 
soon  found  B.  the  more  sympathetic,  and  an  intimacy  grew 

I  up  between  them  which  made  an  engagement  seem  likely. 
Through  her  friendship  with  him  and  with  Mrs.  A.,  she  often 
met  Mr.  A.  His  presence  excited  her  inexplicably,  made  her 
nervous.  Just  at  this  time  she  went  to  a  big  party.  All  her 
friends  were  there.  She  became  lost  in  thought,  and  in  a 
reverie  was  playing  with  her  ring,  when  suddenly  it  slipped 
out  of  her  hand  and  rolled  under  the  table.  Both  men  tried 
to  find  it  and  Mr.  B.  managed  to  get  it.  With  a  meaning 
smile  he  put  the  ring  back  on  her  finger,  and  said,  “  You 
know  what  that  means!  ”  Overcome  by  some  strange,  irre¬ 
sistible  feeling,  she  tore  the  ring  from  her  finger  and  flung  it 
out  of  the  open  window.  Naturally  a  painful  moment  for  all 
ensued,  and  she  soon  went  away,  much  depressed.  A  little 
while  after,  so-called  chance  brought  her  for  her  summer 
holidays  to  the  health-resort  where  A.  and  his  wife  were  stay¬ 
ing.  It  was  then  that  Mrs.  A.  began  to  suffer  from  nerve- 
trouble,  and  frequently  felt  too  unwell  to  leave  the  house.  So 
our  patient  could  often  go  out  for  walks  alone  with  A.  One 
day  they  were  out  in  a  small  boat.  She  was  boisterously 
merry  and  fell  overboard.  Mr.  A.  saved  her  with  difficulty  as 
she  could  not  swim,  and  he  managed  to  lift  her  into  the  boat  in 

I  a  half-unconscious  state.  Then  he  kissed  her.  This  romantic 
event  wove  fast  the  bonds  between  them.  In  self-defence  she 
did  her  best  to  get  herself  engaged  to  B.  and  to  persuade  her¬ 
self  that  she  loved  him.  Of  course  this  queer  comedy  could 
not  escape  the  sharp  eye  of  feminine  jealousy.  Mrs.  A.,  her 
friend,  guessed  the  secret,  and  was  so  much  upset  by  it  that 
her  nervous  condition  grew  bad  enough  to  necessitate  her 

I  trying  a  cure  at  a  foreign  health-resort.  At  the  farewell¬ 
gathering  the  demon  came  to  our  patient  and  whispered : 
“  To-night  he  will  be  alone,  something  must  happen  to  you 
so  that  you  can  go  to  his  house.”  And  so  indeed  it  came 
about ;  her  strange  behaviour  made  her  friends  take  her  to 
his  house,  and  thus  she  achieved  her  desire. 

After  this  explanation  the  reader  will  probably  be  inclined 
to  assume  that  only  diabolical  subtlety  could  think  out  and 


364 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


set  in  motion  such  a  chain  of  circumstances.  There  is  no 
doubt  about  the  subtlety,  but  the  moral  evaluation  is  less 
certain.  I  desire  to  lay  special  emphasis  upon  the  fact  that 
the  patient  was  in  no  sense  conscious  of  the  motives  of  this 
dramatic  performance.  The  incident  apparently  just  came 
about  of  itself  without  any  conscious  motive  whatsoever. 
But  the  whole  previous  history  makes  it  perfectly  clear  that 
everything  was  most  ingeniously  directed  towards  the  other 
aim;  whilst  the  conscious  self  was  apparently  working  to 
bring  about  the  engagement  to  Mr.  B.,  the  unconscious 
compulsion  to  take  the  other  road  was  still  stronger. 

So  once  more  we  must  return  to  our  original  question, 
whence  comes  the  pathological,  the  peculiar  and  exaggerated 
reaction  to  the  trauma  ?  Belying  on  a  conclusion  obtained 
from  other  analogous  experiences,  we  ventured  the  conjec¬ 
ture  that  in  the  present  case  we  had  to  do  with  a  disturbance 
in  the  love-life,  in  addition  to  the  trauma.  This  supposition 
was  thoroughly  borne  out ;  the  trauma,  which  was  apparently 
the  cause  of  the  illness,  was  merely  the  occasion  for  some 
factor,  till  then  unconscious,  to  manifest  itself.  This  was 
the  significant  erotic  conflict.  With  this  finding  the  trauma 
loses  its  pathogenic  significance  and  is  replaced  by  a  much 
deeper  and  more  comprehensive  conception,  which  regards 
the  erotic  conflict  as  the  pathogenic  agent.  This  conception 
may  be  described  as  the  sexual  theory  of  the  neurosis. 

I  am  often  asked  why  it  is  just  the  erotic  conflict  rather 
than  any  other  which  is  the  cause  of  the  neurosis.  There  is 
but  one  answer  to  this.  No  one  asserts  that  this  ought 
necessarily  to  be  the  case,  but  as  a  simple  matter  of  fact  it 
is  always  found  to  be  so,  notwithstanding  all  the  cousins  and 
aunts,  godparents,  and  teachers,  who  rage  against  it.  Despite 
all  the  indignant  assertions  to  the  contrary,  the  problem  and 
conflicts  of  love  are  of  fundamental  importance  for  humanity,1 
and  with  increasingly  careful  study,  it  comes  out  ever  more 
clearly  that  the  love-life  is  of  immensely  greater  importance 
than  the  individual  suspects. 

1  “  Love  ”  is  used  in  that  larger  sense  of  the  word,  which  indeed  belongs  to 
it  by  right ;  it  does  not  mean  “  mere  sexuality.” 


NEW  PATHS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY 


865 


As  a  consequence  of  the  recognition  that  the  true  root  of 
the  neurosis  is  not  the  trauma,  but  the  hidden  erotic  conflict, 
the  trauma  loses  its  pathogenic  significance. 


Thus  the  theory  had  to  be  shifted  on  to  an  entirely 
different  basis,  for  the  investigation  now  had  to  face  the 
erotic  conflict  itself.  Our  example  shows  that  this  contains 


extremely  abnormal  elements  and  cannot,  primd  facie ,  be 
compared  with  an  ordinary  love  conflict.  It  is  surprising, 
indeed  hardly  credible,  that  only  the  postulated  affection 
should  be  conscious,  whilst  the  real  passion  remained  un¬ 
known  to  the  patient.  But  in  this  case  it  is  beyond  dispute 
that  the  real  erotic  relation  remained  unillumined,  whilst 
the  field  of  consciousness  was  dominated  by  the  assumption. 
If  we  try  to  formulate  this  fact,  something  like  the  following 
proposition  results  :  in  a  neurosis,  two  erotic  tendencies  exist 
which  stand  in  extreme  opposition  to  one  another,  and  one  at 
least  is  unconscious.  Against  this  formula  the  objection  can 
be  raised  that  it  has  obviously  been  derived  from  this  one  par¬ 
ticular  case,  and  is  therefore  lacking  in  general  validity.  The 
criticism  will  be  the  more  readily  urged  because  no  one  unpos¬ 
sessed  of  special  reasons  is  willing  to  admit  that  the  erotic 
conflict  is  of  universal  prevalence.  On  the  contrary,  it  is 
assumed  that  this  conflict  belongs  more  properly  to  the  sphere 
of  novels,  since  it  is  generally  depicted  as  something  in  the 
nature  of  such  wild  adventures  as  are  described  by  Karin 
Michaelis  in  her  “Aberrations  of  Marriage,”  or  by  Forel  in 
“  The  Sexual  Question.”  But  indeed  this  is  not  the  case  ;  for 
we  know  the  wildest  and  most  moving  dramas  are  not  played 
on  the  stage,  but  every  day  in  the  hearts  of  ordinary  men  and 
women  who  pass  by  without  exciting  attention,  and,  who  betray 
to  the  world  save  through  the  symbol  of  a  nervous  breakdown, 
nothing  of  the  conflicts  that  rage  within  them.  But  what 
is  so  difficult  for  the  layman  to  grasp  is  the  fact  that  in  most 
cases  patients  have  no  suspicion  whatever  of  the  internecine 
war  raging  in  their  unconscious.  But  remembering  that  there 
are  many  people  who  understand  nothing  at  all  about  them¬ 
selves,  we  shall  be  less  surprised  at  the  realisation  that  there 
are  also  people  who  are  utterly  unaware  of  their  actual  conflicts. 


366 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


If  the  reader  is  now  inclined  to  admit  the  possible 
existence  of  pathogenic,  and  perhaps  even  of  unconscious 
conflicts,  he  will  certainly  protest  that  they  are  not  erotic 
conflicts.  If  this  kind  reader  should  happen  himself  to  be 
somewhat  nervous,  the  mere  suggestion  will  arouse  his  in¬ 
dignation,  for  we  are  all  inclined,  as  a  result  of  our  education 
in  school  and  at  home,  to  cross  ourselves  three  times  where 
we  meet  such  words  as  “erotic”  and  “sexual” — and  so  we 
are  conveniently  able  to  think  that  nothing  of  that  nature 
exists,  or  at  least  very  seldom,  and  at  a  great  distance  from 
ourselves.  But  it  is  just  this  attitude  which  in  the  first 
instance  brings  about  neurotic  conflicts. 

We  recognise  that  the  course  of  civilisation  consists  in 
the  progressive  mastering  of  the  animal  element  in  man ;  it 
is  a  process  of  domestication  which  cannot  be  carried  through 
without  rebellion  on  the  part  of  the  animal  nature  still  thirst¬ 
ing  for  its  liberty.  Humanity  forces  itself  to  endure  the  re¬ 
strictions  of  the  civilising  process ;  but  from  time  to  time  there 
comes  a  frenzied  bursting  of  all  bonds.  Antiquity  had  expe¬ 
rience  of  it  in  that  wave  of  Dionysian  orgies,  surging  hither 
from  the  East,  which  became  an  essentially  characteristic 
element  of  antique  culture.  Its  spirit  was  partly  instru¬ 
mental  in  causing  the  numerous  sects  and  philosophic  schools 
of  the  last  century  before  Christ,  to  develop  the  Stoic  ideal 
into  asceticism ;  and  in  producing  from  the  polytheistic  chaos 
of  those  times,  the  ascetic  twin-religions  of  Mithras  and  of 
Christ.  A  second  clearly  marked  wave  of  the  Dionysian 
impulse  towards  freedom  swept  over  the  Western  world  during 
the  Renaissance.  It  is  difficult  to  judge  of  one’s  own  time,  but 
we  gain  some  insight  if  we  note  how  the  Arts  are  developing, 
what  is  the  prevailing  type  of  public  taste,  what  men  read 
and  write,  what  societies  they  found,  what  “  questions  ”  are 
the  order  of  the  day,  and  against  what  the  Philistines  are 
fighting.  We  find  in  the  long  list  of  our  present  social 
problems  that  the  sexual  question  occupies  by  no  means  the 
last  place.  It  agitates  men  and  women  who  would  shake 
the  foundations  of  sexual  morality,  and  throw  off  the  burden 
of  moral  shame  which  past  centuries  have  heaped  upon  Eros. 


NEW  PATHS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY 


B67 


The  existence  of  these  aspirations  and  endeavours  cannot  be 
simply  denied,  or  declared  indefensible ;  they  exist  and  there¬ 
fore  presumably  not  without  justification.  It  is  both  more 
interesting  and  more  useful  to  study  carefully  the  basic  causes 
of  these  movements  than  to  chime  in  with  the  lamentations 
of  the  professional  mourners  over  morals,  who  prophesy  with 
unction  the  moral  downfall  of  humanity.  The  moralist  least 
of  all  trusts  God,  for  he  thinks  that  the  beautiful  tree  of 
humanity  can  only  thrive  by  dint  of  being  pruned,  bound, 
and  trained  on  a  trellis,  whereas  Father-Sun  and  Mother- 
Earth  have  combined  to  make  it  grow  joyfully  in  accordance 
with  its  own  laws,  which  are  full  of  the  deepest  meaning. 

Serious  people  are  aware  that  a  very  real  sexual  problem 
does  exist  at  the  present  time.  The  rapid  development  of  the 
towns,  coupled  with  methods  of  work  brought  about  by  the 
extraordinary  division  of  labour,  the  increasing  industrialisa¬ 
tion  of  the  country  and  the  growing  security  of  life,  combine 
to  deprive  humanity  of  many  opportunities  of  expending 
emotional  energy.  Think  of  the  life  of  the  peasant,  whose 
work  so  rich  and  full  of  change,  affords  him  unconscious  satis¬ 
faction  by  means  of  its  symbolic  content ;  a  like  satisfaction 
the  factory-hand  and  the  clerk  can  never  know.  Think  of 
a  life  with  nature  ;  of  those  wonderful  moments  when,  as  lord 
and  fructifier,  man  drives  the  plough  through  the  earth,  and 
with  kingly  gesture  scatters  the  seed  of  the  future  harvest  ; 
see  his  justifiable  awe  before  the  destructive  power  of  the  ele¬ 
ments,  his  joy  in  the  fruitfulness  of  his  wife,  who  gives  him 
daughters  and  sons,  who  mean  to  him  increased  working 
power  and  enhanced  prosperity.  Alas  !  from  all  this  we  town- 
dwellers,  we  modern  machines,  are  far,  far  removed. 

Must  we  not  admit  that  we  are  already  deprived  of  the 
most  natural  and  most  beautiful  of  all  satisfactions,  since  we 
can  no  longer  contemplate  the  arrival  of  our  own  seed,  the 
“  blessing  ”  of  children,  with  unmixed  pleasure  ?  Marriages 
where  no  artifices  are  resorted  to  are  rare.  Is  this  not  an 
all-important  departure  from  the  joys  which  Mother  Nature 
gave  her  first-born  sons  ?  Can  such  a  state  of  affairs  bring 
satisfaction  ?  Note  how  men  slink  to  their  work,  watch  their 


868 


ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


faces  at  an  early  morning  hour  in  the  tram-cars.  One  of 
them  makes  his  little  wheels,  and  another  writes  trivial 
things  which  do  not  interest  him ;  what  wonder  is  it  if  such 
men  belong  to  as  many  clubs  as  there  are  days  in  the 
week,  and  that  among  women  little  societies  flourish,  where 
they  pour  out  on  some  particular  hero  or  cause  those  unsatis¬ 
fied  desires  which  the  man  dulls  at  his  restaurant  or  club, 
imbibing  beer  and  playing  at  being  important  ?  To  these 
sources  of  dissatisfaction  is  added  a  more  serious  factor. 
Nature  has  provided  defenceless,  weaponless  man  with  a  great 
amount  of  energy  to  enable  him  not  merely  to  bear  passively 
the  grave  dangers  of  existence,  but  also  to  conquer  them. 
Mother  Nature  has  equipped  her  son  for  tremendous  hard¬ 
ships  and  has  placed  a  costly  premium  on  the  overcoming  of 
them,  as  Schopenhauer  quite  understood  when  he  said  that 
“  happiness  is  really  but  the  termination  of  unhappiness.” 
We  are,  for  the  most  part,  shielded  from  the  immediately 
pressing  dangers,  and  we  are  therefore  daily  tempted  to  ex¬ 
cess,  for  in  man  the  animal  always  becomes  rampant  when  he 
is  not  constrained  by  fierce  necessity.  Are  we  then  indeed 
unrestrained  ?  In  what  orgiastic  festivals  do  we  dispose  of 
the  surplus  of  vital  power  ?  Our  moral  views  do  not  permit 
us  that  outlet. 

But  reckon  up  in  how  many  directions  we  are  met  by  un¬ 
satisfied  longings ;  the  denial  of  procreation  and  begetting,  for 
which  purpose  nature  has  endowed  us  with  great  energy ;  the 
unending  monotony  of  our  highly  developed  modern  methods 
of  “  division  of  labour,”  which  excludes  any  interest  in  the 
work  itself ;  and  above  all  our  effortless  security  against  war, 
lawlessness,  robbery,  epidemics,  infant  and  woman  mortality 
— all  this  gives  a  sum  of  surplus  energy  which  must  needs  find 
an  outlet.  But  how  ?  A  relatively  few  create  quasi-natural 
dangers  for  themselves  in  reckless  sport ;  many  more,  seeking 
to  find  some  equivalent  for  their  more  primitive  energy,  take 
to  alcoholic  excess ;  others  expend  themselves  in  the  rush  of 
money-making,  or  in  the  morbid  performance  of  duties,  in 
perpetual  over-work.  By  such  means  they  try  to  escape  a 
dangerous  storing-up  of  energy  which  might  force  mad  outlets 


NEW  PATHS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY  369 

for  itself.  It  is  for  such  reasons  that  we  have  to-day  a  sexual 
question.  It  is  in  this  direction  that  men’s  energy  would 
ike  to  expend  itself  as  it  has  done  from  time  immemorial 
m  periods  of  security  and  abundance.  Under  such  circum¬ 
stances  it  is  not  only  rabbits  that  multiply ;  men  and  women, 
oo,  become  the  sport  of  these  accesses  of  nature :  the  sport, 
because  their  moral  views  have  confined  them  in  a  narrow 
cage,  the  excessive  narrowness  of  which  was  not  felt  so  long 
as  harsh  external  necessity  pressed  upon  them  with  even 
greater  constraint.  But  now  the  man  of  the  cities  finds 
the  space  too  circumscribed.  He  is  surrounded  by  allurino- 
emptation,  and  like  an  invisible  procwreur  there  slinks  through 
society  the  knowledge  of  preventive  methods  which  evade  all 
consequences.  Why  then  moral  restraint  ?  Out  of  religious 
consideration  for  an  angry  God  ?  Apart  from  the  prevalence 
of  wide-spread  unbelief,  even  the  believing  man  might  quietly 
ask  himself  whether,  if  he  himself  were  God,  he  would  punish 
the  youthful  erotic  uncontrol  of  John  and  Mary  with  twice 
twenty-four  years  of  imprisonment  and  seething  in  boiling  oil 
buch  ideas  are  no  longer  compatible  with  our  decorous  con¬ 
ception  of  God.  The  God  of  our  time  is  necessarily  much  too 
tolerant  to  make  a  great  fuss  over  it;  (knavishness  and  hypo¬ 
crisy  are  a  thousand  times  worse).  In  this  way  the  some¬ 
what  ascetic  and  hypocritical  sexual  morality  of  our  time  has 
had  the  ground  cut  from  under  its  feet.  Or  is  it  the  case  that 
we  are  now  protected  from  dissoluteness  by  superior  wisdom 
lecognition  of  the  nothingness  of  human  happenings  ?  Un¬ 
fortunately  we  are  very  far  from  that;  rather  does  the 
hypnotic  power  of  tradition  keep  us  in  bonds,  and  through 
cowardice  and  thoughtlessness  and  habit  the  herd  goes  tramp- 
mg  on  in  this  same  path.  But  man  possesses  in  the  un¬ 
conscious  a  fine  scent  for  the  spirit  of  his  time;  he  has  an 
inkling  of  his  own  possibilities  and  he  feels  in  his  innermost 
heart  the  instability  of  the  foundations  of  present-day  morality 
no  longer  supported  by  living  religious  conviction.  It  is  thus 
the  greater  number  of  the  erotic  conflicts  of  our  time  originate. 
Instinct  thirsting  for  liberty  thrusts  itself  up  against  the 
yielding  barriers  of  morality  ;  men  are  tempted,  they  desire 

24 


370  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

and  do  not  desire.  And  because  they  will  not  and  cannot  think 
out  to  its  logical  conclusion  what  it  is  they  really  desire, 
their  erotic  conflict  is  largely  unconscious ;  whence  conies 
neurosis.  Neurosis  then  is  most  intimately  bound  up  with 
the  problem  of  our  times  and  represents  an  unsuccessful 
attempt  of  the  individual  to  solve  the  general  problem  in  his 
own  person.  Neurosis  is  a  tearing  in  two  of  the  inner  self . 
For  most  men  the  reason  of  this  cleavage  is  the  fact  that  their 
conscious  self  desires  to  hold  to  its  moral  ideal,  whilst  the 
unconscious  strives  after  the  amoral  ideal,  steadfastly  rejected 
by  the  conscious  self.  People  of  this  kind  would  like  to 
appear  more  decent  than  they  really  are.  But  the  conflict  is 
often  of  an  opposite  kind.  There  are  those  who  do  not  out¬ 
wardly  live  a  decent  life  at  all  and  do  not  place  the  slightest 
constraint  upon  their  sexuality,  but  in  reality  this  is  a  sinful 
pose  assumed  for  goodness  knows  what  reasons,  for  down 
below  they  have  a  decorous  soul  which  has  somehow  gone 
astray  in  their  unconscious,  just  as  has  the  real  immoral 
nature  in  the  case  of  apparently  moral  people.  Extremes  of 
conduct  always  arouse  suspicions  of  the  opposite  tendencies  in 
the  unconscious. 

It  was  necessary  to  make  this  general  statement  m  order 
to  elucidate  the  idea  of  the  “erotic  conflict  ”  in  analytical 
psychology,  for  it  is  the  key  to  the  conception  of  neurosis. 
We  can  now  proceed  to  consider  the  psychoanalytic  technique. 
Obviously  the  main  problem  is,  how  to  arrive  by  the  shortest 
and  best  path  at  a  knowledge  of  the  patient’s  “  unconscious. 
The  method  first  used  was  hypnotism,  the  patient  being  ques¬ 
tioned,  on  the  production  of  spontaneous,  phantasies  observed 
while  in  a  state  of  hypnotic  concentration.  This  method  is 
still  occasionally  used,  but  in  comparison  with,  the  present 
technique  is  too  primitive  and  therefore  unsatisfactory, 
second  method,  evolved  by  the  Psychiatric  Clinic,  Zurich,  was 
the  so-called  association  method,1  which  is  chiefly  °*  theo“ 
retie,  experimental  value.  Its  result  is  an  extensive,  though 
superficial  orientation,  concerning  the  unconscious  conflict 


i  Compare  Jung,  «  Diagnostic^  Associationsstudien .” 
Barth.  2  volumes. 


Leipzig : 


371 


NEW  PATHS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY 


(  complex  V  The  more  penetrating  method  is  that  of 
dream-analysis  whose  discovery  belongs  to  Sigmund  Freud.2 

Of  the  dream  it  can  be  said  that  “  the  stone  which  the 
builders  rejected  has  become  the  head  of  the  corner.”  It  is 
only  in  modern  times  that  the  dream  (that  fleeting  and  seem¬ 
ingly  insignificant  product  of  the  soul),  has  met  with  such 
complete  contempt.  F ormerly  it  was  esteemed,  as  a  harbinger 
o  late,  a  warning  or  a  consolation,  a  messenger  of  the  gods. 
Now  we  use  it  as  a  messenger  of  the  unconscious ;  it  must 
isclose  to  us  the  secrets  which  our  unconscious  self  enviously 

hides  from  our  consciousness,  and  it  does  so  with  astonishing 
completeness.  ° 

On  analytical  investigation  it  becomes  plain  that  the 
dream,  as  we  remember  it,  is  only  a  facade  which  conceals  the 
contents  within  the  house.  But  if,  observing  certain  technical 
rules,  we  get  the  dreamer  to  talk  about  the  details  of  his  dream 
it  soon  appears  that  his  free  associations  group  themselves  in 
certain  directions  and  round  certain  topics.  These  appear  to 
be  of  personal  significance,  and  have  a  meaning  which  at  first 
sight  would  not  be  suspected.  Careful  comparison  shows  that 
they  are  in  close  and  subtle  symbolic  connection  with  the 
dream-fapade.3  This  particular  complex  of  ideas  in  which  all 
the  threads  of  the  dream  unite,  is  the  conflict  for  which  we  are 

ii  .  i*i  .  moment,  conditioned  by 

the  immediate  circumstances.  What  is  painful  and  incom¬ 
patible  is  m  this  way  so  covered  up  or  split  that  we  can  call 
tt  a,  wish-fulfilment ;  but  we  must  immediately  add  that  the 
wishes  fulfilled  in  the  dream  do  not  seem  at  first  sight  to 
>e  car  wishes,  but  rather  the  very  opposite.  For  instance  a 
laughter  loves  her  mother  tenderly,  but  she  dreams  that  her 
nother  is  dead ;  this  causes  her  great  grief.  Such  dreams 
vhere  apparently  there  is  no  trace  of  any  wish-fulfilment  are 


JooT^Jui°ry  °£  “Comi>W'  is  “Psychology  of  Dementia 

*  F*eud’  “  Tke  Interpretation  of  Dreams.”  James  Allen 
a  s™he  ™l6S  ?  drea^nalysis,  the  laws  of  the  structure  of  the  dream  and 
s  symbolism,  form  almost  a  science ;  this  is  one  of  the  most  important 

'ry  arfuous  study!h°l0gy  °f  UnCOnscious  whose  comprehension  requires 


372  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

innumerable,  and  are  a  constant  stumbling-block  to  our 
learned  critics,  for -incredible  dictu- they  still  cannot  grasp 
the  simple  distinction  between  the  manifest  and  the  latent 
content  of  the  dream.  We  must  guard  against  such  an  error  ; 
the  conflict  dealt  with  in  the  dream  is  an  unconscious  one, 
and  equally  so  also  is  the  manner  of  its  solution.  Our  dreamer 
has,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  wish  to  get  away  from  her  mother 
—expressed  in  the  language  of  the  unconscious,  she  wants 
her  mother  to  die.  Now  we  know  that  a  certain  section  o 
the  unconscious  contains  all  our  lost  memories,  and  also  all 
those  infantile  impulses  that  cannot  find  any  application  m 
adult  life— a  series,  that  is,  of  ruthless  childish  desires.  We 
may  say  that  for  the  most  part  the  unconscious  bears  an 
infantile  stamp;  like  the  child’s  simple  wish  :  “ Daddy,  when 
Mummie  is  dead,  will  you  marry  me?”  In  a  dream  that 
infantile  expression  of  a  wish  is  the  substitute  for  a  recen 
wish  to  marry,  which  is  painful  to  the  dreamer  for  reasons  still 
undiscovered.  This  thought,  or  rather  the  seriousness  of  its 
corresponding  intention,  is  said  to  be  “  repressed  into  the 
unconscious”  and  must  there  necessarily  express  itself  in  an 
infantile  way,  for  the  material  which  is  at  the  disposal  of  t  le 
unconscious  consists  chiefly  of  infantile  memories.  As  the 
latest  researches  of  the  Zurich  school  have  shown,  these 
are  not  only  infantile  memories  hut  also  “  racial  ”  memories, 
extending  far  beyond  the  limits  of  individual  existence. 

Important  desires  which  have  not  been  sufficiently  grati¬ 
fied,  or  have  been  “  repressed,”  during  the  day  find  their 
symbolic  substitution  in  dreams.  Because  moral  tendencies 
usually  predominate  in  waking  hours,  these  ungratified 
desires  which  strive  to  realise  themselves  symbolically  in  the 
dream  are,  as  a  rule,  erotic  ones.  It  is,  therefore  somewhat 
rash  to  tell  dreams  before  one  who  understands,  for  tlie 
symbolism  is  often  extremely  transparent  to  him  who  knows 
the  rules  !  The  clearest  in  this  respect  are  “  anxiety-dreams 
which  are  so  common,  and  which  invariably  s\  mbolise  a 

strong  erotic  desire.  I 

Often  the  dream  apparently  deals  with  quite  irrelevan 

i  Compare  Jung,  “  The  Psychology  of  the  Unconscious/’ 


878 


NEW  PATHS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY 

details,  thereby  making  a  ridiculous  impression ;  or  else  it  is 
so  unintelligible  that  we  are  simply  amazed  at  it,  and  accord¬ 
ingly  have  to  overcome  considerable  resistance  in  ourselves 
before  we  can  set  to  work  seriously  to  unravel  its  symbolic 
weaving  by  patient  work.  But  when  at  last  we  penetrate  into 
its  real  meaning  we  find  ourselves  at  a  bound  in  the  very 
heait  of  the  dreamer  s  secrets,  and  find  to  our  astonishment 
that  an  apparently  senseless  dream  is  quite  full  of  sense,  and 
deals  with  extraordinarily  important  and  serious  problems  of 
the  soul.  Having  acquired  this  knowledge  we  cannot  refrain 
from  giving  rather  more  credit  to  the  old  superstitions  con¬ 
cerning  the  meaning  of  dreams  for  which  our  rationalising 
tendencies,  until  lately,  had  no  use. 

As  Freud  says  :  “  Dream-analysis  is  the  via  regia  to  the 
unconscious.”  Dream-analysis  leads  us  into  the  deepest  per¬ 
sonal  secrets,  and  it  is  therefore  an  invaluable  instrument  in 
the  hand  of  the  psychotherapist  and  educator.  The  objections 
of  the  opponents  of  this  method  are  based,  as  might  be  ex¬ 
pected,  upon  argument,  which  (setting  aside  undercurrents  of 
personal  feeling)  show  the  bias  of  present-day  Scholasticism. 
It  so  happens  that  it  is  just  the  analysis  of  dreams  which 
mercilessly  uncovers  the  deceptive  morals  and  hypocritical 
affectations  of  man,  and  shows  him  the  under  side  of  his 
character ;  can  we  wonder  if  many  feel  that  their  toes  have 
been  rather  painfully  trodden  upon  ?  In  connection  with  the 
dream-analysis  I  am  always  reminded  of  the  striking  statue 
of  Carnal  Pleasure  in  Bale  Cathedral,  which  shows  in  front 
the  sweet  smile  of  archaic  sculpture,  but  behind  is  covered 
with  toads  and  serpents.  Dream-analysis  reverses  the  figure 
and  for  once  shows  the  other  side.  The  ethical  value  of  "this 
reality-correction  (Wirklichkeitscorrectur)  cannot  be  disputed. 

It  is  a  painful  but  extremely  useful  operation,  which  makes 
great  demands  on  both  physician  and  patient.  Psycho¬ 
analysis,  m  so  far  as  we  are  considering  it  as  a  therapeutic 
technique,  consists  mainly  of  the  analysis  of  many  dreams  ; 
the  dreams  m  the  course  of  the  treatment  bring  up  the  dirt 
of  the  unconscious  in  order  that  it  may  be  subjected  to  the 
disinfecting  power  of  daylight,  and  in  this  process  many  a 


374  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

valuable  thing  believed  to  have  been  lost  is  found  again.  It  is 
a  catharsis  of  a  peculiar  kind  which  is  remotely  comparable  to 
Socrates’  Maieutic ,  to  “  midwifery.”  It  is  not  surprising  that 
for  those  persons  who  have  themselves  now  come  to  believe 
in  their  own  poses,  psychoanalysis  is  at  times  a  real  torture, 
since  in  accordance  with  the  old  mystic  saying,  “  Give  all  thou 
hast,  then  only  shalt  thou  receive,”  there  is  first  the  necessity 
to  get  rid  of  almost  all  the  dearly  cherished  illusions,  to  per¬ 
mit  the  advent  of  something  deeper,  finer,  and  greater,  for 
only  through  the  mystery  of  self-sacrifice  is  it  possible  to  be 
“  born  again.”  It  is  indeed  ancient  wisdom  which  again 
sees  the  daylight  in  psychoanalytic  treatment,  and  it  is  a  very 
curious  thing  that  this  particular  kind  of  psychic  re-education 
proves  to  be  necessary  at  the  height  of  our  modern  culture ; 
this  education  which  in  more  than  one  respect  can  be  com¬ 
pared  to  the  technique  of  Socrates,  even  though  psychoanalysis 

penetrates  to  much  greater  depths. 

We  always  find  in  a  patient  some  conflict,  which  at  a  par¬ 
ticular  point,  is  connected  with  the  great  problems  of  society ; 
so  that  when  the  analysis  has  arrived  at  this  point  the 
apparently  individual  conflict  is  revealed  as  a  universal 
conflict  of  the  environment  and  the  epoch.  Neurosis  is  thus, 
strictly  speaking,  nothing  but  an  individual  attempt,  however 
unsuccessful,  at  a  solution  of  the  general  problem ;  it  must 
be  so,  for  a  general  problem,  a  “  question,  is  not  an  end  in 
itself;  it  only  exists  in  the  hearts  of  individual  men  and 
women.  The  “  question”  which  troubles  the  patient  is— 
whether  you  like  it  or  not — the  “  sexual  question,  or  more 
precisely,  the  problem  of  present-day  sexual  morality.  His 
increased  demands  upon  life  and  the  joy  of  life,  upon  glowing 
reality,  can  stand  the  necessary  limitations  "which  reality 
sets,  but  not  the  arbitrary,  ill-supported  prohibitions  of 
present-day  morals,  which  would  curb  too  much  the  creative 
spirit  rising  up  from  the  depths  of  the  darkness  of  the  beasts 
that  perish.  For-  the  neurotic  has  in  him  the  soul  of  a  child 
that  can  but  ill-endure  arbitrary  limitations  of  which  it  does 
not  see  the  meaning ;  it  tries  to  adopt  the  moral  standard, 
but  thereby  only  falls  into  deeper  disunion  and  distress  within 


375 


NEW  PATHS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY 

itself.  On  the  one  hand  it  tries  to  suppress  itself,  and  on  the 
other  to  free  itself— this  is  the  struggle  that  is  called  Neurosis, 
ft  this  conflict  were  altogether  clear  to  consciousness  it  would 
of  course  never  give  rise  to  neurotic  symptoms;  these  only 
arise  when  we  cannot  see  the  other  side  of  our  character,  and 
the  urgency  of  the  problems  of  that  other  side.  In  these 
circumstances  symptoms  arise  which  partially  express  what 
is  unrecognised  in  the  soul.  The  symptom  is,  therefore,  an 
indirect  expression  of  unrecognised  desires,  which,  were  they 
conscious,  would  be  in  violent  opposition  to  the  sufferer’s 
moral  views.  As  we  have  already  said,  this  dark  side  of  the 
soul  does  not  come  within  the  purview  of  consciousness,  and 
therefore  the  patient  cannot  deal  with  it,  correct  it,  resign 
himself  to  it,  or  renounce  it,  for  he  cannot  be  said  to  possess 
the  unconscious  impulses ;  rather  have  they  been  repressed 
from  the  hierarchy  of  the  conscious  soul,  have  become  auto¬ 
nomous  complexes  which  can  be  brought  again  under  control 
by  analysis  of  the  unconscious,  though  not  without  great 
resistance.  There  are  a  great  many  patients  whose  great 
boast  it  is  that  the  erotic  conflict  does  not  exist  for  them ;  they 
are  sure  that  the  sexual  question  is  nonsense,  they  have  no 
sexuality.  These  people  do  not  see  that  other  things  of  un¬ 
known  origin  cumber  their  path,  such  as  hysterical  whims, 
underhand  tricks,  from  which  they  make  themselves,  or 
lose  nearest  them,  suffer;  nervous  stomach-catarrh,  pain 
here  and  there,  irritability  without  reason,  and  a  whole  host 
of  nervous  symptoms.  All  which  things  show  what  is  wrong 
with  them,  for  relatively,  only  a  few  specially  favoured  by 
fate,  avoid  the  great  conflict. 

Analytical  psychology  has  already  been  reproached  with 
setting  at  liberty  the  animal  instincts  of  men,  hitherto  happily 
repressed,  and  causing  thereby  untold  harm.  This  childish 
apprehension  clearly  proves  how  little  trust  is  put  in  the 
efficacy  of  present-day  moral  principles.  It  is  pretended  that 
only  morals  can  restrain  men  from  dissoluteness;  a  much  more 
efficient  regulator,  however,  is  necessity,  which  sets  much 
more  real  and  convincing  bounds  than  any  moral  principles, 
it  is  true  that  analysis  liberates  animal  instincts,  but  not 


876  ANALYTICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

as  some  have  said,  just  in  order  to  let  them  loose,  but  rather 
to  make  them  available  for  higher  application,  in  so  far  as 
this  is  possible  to  the  particular  individual,  and  in  so  far 
as  such  “  sublimated  ”  application  is  required.  Under  all 
circumstances  it  is  an  advantage  to  be  in  full  possession  of 
one’s  own  personality,  for  otherwise  the  repressed  desires  will 
get  in  the  way  in  a  most  serious  manner,  and  overthrow  us 
just  in  that  place  where  we  are  most  vulnerable ;  this  maggot 
always  destroys  the  kernel.  It  is  surely  better  that  a  man 
learn  to  tolerate  himself,  and  instead  of  making  war  on  him¬ 
self  convert  his  inner  difficulties  into  real  experiences,  rathei 
than  uselessly  repeat  them  again  and  again  in  phantasy. 
Then  at  least  he  lives,  and  does  not  merely  consume  himself 
in  fruitless  struggles.  But  when  men  are  educated  to  recog¬ 
nise  the  baser  side  of  their  own  natures,  it  may  be  hoped 
they  will  learn  to  understand  and  love  their  fellow-men 
better  too.  A  decrease  of  hypocrisy  and  an  increase  of  toler¬ 
ance  towards  oneself,  can  have  only  good  results  in  tolerance 
towards  one’s  neighbours,  for  men  are  only  too  easily  dis¬ 
posed  to  extend  to  others  the  unfairness  and  violence  which 

they  do  to  their  own  natures. 

The  bringing  of  the  individual  conflict  into  relationship 
with  the  general  moral  problem,  raises  psychoanalysis  far 
beyond  the  limits  of  mere  medical  therapeutics ;  it  provides 
the  patient  with  a  philosophy  of  life  founded  upon  insight  and 
experience,  and  this,  coupled  with  his  deepened  knowledge 
of  his  own  personality,  enables  him  to  adapt  himself  to 
reality.  It  would  be  almost  impossible  to  construct  an 
adequate  picture  of  analysis  from  the  existing  literatuie,  as 
hitherto  very  little  of  the  material  requisite  for  the  technique 
of  a  searching  analysis  has  been  published.  Very  great 
problems  in  this  domain  are  still  awaiting  their  final  solu¬ 
tion.  Unfortunately  the  number  of  scientific  workers  in 
this  field  is  still  rather  small;  prejudice  still  prevents  the 
majority  of  scientific  persons  from  co-operating  in  this  im¬ 
portant  work.  Many,  especially  in  Germany,  are  kept  back 
by  fear  of  ruining  their  careers  should  they  venture  into  this 

region. 


NEW  PATHS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY 


377 


All  the  unusual  and  wonderful  phenomena  which  group 
themselves  round  psychoanalysis  give  us  reason  to  suspect 
— quite  in  accordance  with  psychoanalytic  principles — that 
something  of  great  importance  is  taking  place  here,  since 
the  learned  sections  of  society,  as  is  usual  at  first,  meet 
it  with  violent  resistances.  But  magna  est  ms  veritatis  et 
prcevalebit. 


INDEX 


Aberrations  of  Marriage  (Michaelis),  365 
Abreaction,  242 
Abstraction,  293 

Accoucheur,  the  analyst  as,  268,  374 
Acts,  symptomatic  (Freud),  281 
Adaptation  to  father,  127,  160,  175 

„  mother,  125, 159, 171,  232 
Adler,  viii,  ix,  191,  223,  260-61,  290,  297-98,  330,  340,  343-44  349 
Alcohol,  influence  of,  12 
Altruism,  269 
Ambitendency,  200 
Ambivalency,  200,  269 
Amnesia  of  Ivenes,  68 
„  periodic,  9 
Amnesic  disturbances,  66-7 
Anaesthesia,  systematic,  68 
Analysis  not  a  reasoning  method,  208 
„  prejudices  against,  206-07 

„  sexualistic  conception  of,  vii 

,,  v.  interpretation,  219 

Analyst  as  accoucheur,  268,  374 
,,  must  be  analysed,  244 
Analytical  psychology,  moral  effect  of,  375-76 
Anamnesis  not  psychoanalysis,  207 
Anna,  little,  132-54 
Anxiety  dreams,  160,  372 
Apollo,  Introversion,  295 
Archaic  view  of  life,  x 
Aschaffenburg,  352 
Assimilation  by  analogy,  223 
Association,  co-ordinance  to  father,  157 
„  familiar,  120-32,  159 

„  method,  80 

Association-concordance  (Kerner),  92 
„  test,  calculation  in,  109 

„  „  guilt  complex,  107 

Attack,  hysterical  (Ivenes)  aetiology  of,  74 
Attention,  dispersion  of,  46-8 
Attitudes  passionelles,  18 
Augur,  medical,  244 


380 


INDEX 


Authority,  faith  in,  277 
Auto-hypnosis,  77,  240 
Automatic  personalities  (Ivenes),  82 
,,  table  movements,  49,  53,  57 
„  writing,  27,  49,  54,  57 

Automatism,  motor  cryptomnesia,  91 
Automatisms,  13,  47,  49,  54 
„  of  S.  W.,  20 
Autonomous  complexes,  375 
Auto-suggestion,  51,  53,  61 
Azam,  case  of  Albert  X.,  9 
„  „  Felida,  66 

Baptism,  the  rite  analysed,  215 
Bayle,  315 

Bergson,  231,  274,  293,  315,  348,  357 
Bernheim,  237 

Binet,  2,  12,  47,  56,  59,  60,  85,  289,  353 
Binet’s  definition  of  somnambulism,  49 
Biological  duties,  274 
Bircher,  250 

Birth,  theories  of  child,  134 

Bleuler,  5,  14,  201,  312,  354 

Bleuler’s  theory  of  negativism,  201 

Boileau’s  case,  9 

Bonamaison’s  case,  76 

Bourne,  Ansel,  case  of,  9 

Bourru  and  Burot,  66 

Bresler’s  case,  89 

Breuer,  236,  241 

Breuer’s  case,  356-358 

Brill,  175 

Burgholzi,  cases  of  mental  disease  analysed,  316 
„  ,,  dementia  prsecox,  322,  328-35 

Calculation  in  association  test,  109 
Camuset,  66 
Case,  Azam’s,  9,  66 
„  Boileau’s,  9 
„  Bonamaison’s,  76 
„  Bresler’s,  89 
,,  Breuer’s,  356-58 
„  Dyce’s,  84 
„  Flournoy’s,  69 
„  Hoefelt’s,  66 
„  Janet’s,  55 
„  Kalk’s,  65 
,,  Macnish’s,  11 
„  Mesnet’s,  10-11 
„  Naef’s,  8 
,,  Pronst’s,  9,  11 


INDEX 


381 


Case,  Renaudin’s,  67 
,,  Schreber’s,  343-46 
,,  Weir  Mitchell’s,  64-5,  84 
Case  of  Albert  X.  (Azam),  9 
„  Elise  K.,  3-7 
,,  Felida  (Azam),  66 
,,  Helen  Smith  (Flournoy),  69 
,,  little  Anna,  132-54 
,,  little  Hans,  132 
,,  Lucie  (Janet),  55 

,,  Mary  Reynolds  (Weir-Mitchell),  64-5,  84 
„  S.  W.,  16-45 

Cases  of  dementia  prsecox,  322,  328-35 

„  mental  disease  analysed  (Burgholzi’s),  316 
Catalepsy  (Ivenes),  28 
Catharsis,  374 
Catholic  Church,  271 
Causal  principle  in  science,  339 
„  view  (Freud),  261 
Cellini,  Benvenuto,  63 
Change  in  character  (Azam’s  case),  66 
„  ,,  (Hoefelt’s  case),  66 

,,  ,,  (Ivenes),  84 

,,  ,,  (Kalk’s  case),  65 

,,  „  (Mary  Reynolds),  64 

„  „  (S.  W.),  69 

Charcot,  8,  356,  361 

,,  classification  of  somnambulic  states,  8 

,,  trauma  theory,  361 

Chevreul,  50 
Christ,  religion  of,  366 
Christian  science,  126,  207,  244,  249 
Civilisation  and  neurosis,  224,  374 
ClaparMe,  188,  232,  348 
,,  (footnote),  287 
Clark  lectures,  94-156 
Classification  of  dreams.  310 

Comparison  of  dream-symbols  with  somnambulic  personalities,  59 
Compensation,  unconscious,  201,  236,  280,  284,  285 
Complex,  concealment,  117 
„  Electra,  228 
,,  incompatibility,  202 
,,  Kern,  228 
„  (Edipus,  228,  232 
,,  resistance,  201 

,,  sensibility,  203 

Complexes,  physicians’  own,  216,  243,  257 
Comprehension  by  analogy,  223 
Conflict  moral,  225,  242,  247,  251 
Content,  manifest  and  latent  of  dream,  372 
Conscious  invention  v.  dream,  178 


382 


INDEX 


Conscious  material,  use  of  in  analysis,  216 
Consciousness  alternating,  11 
,,  double,  1 

Constellation,  parental,  160-75 
Constellations,  familiar,  119-132 
Converted  libido ,  141 
Cook,  Miss  Florence,  37 
Correspondence  of  Jung  and  Loy,  236-77 
Creative  work  of  unconscious,  additional,  85 
Crucial  points  in  Psychoanalysis,  236-77 
Cryptomnesia,  78,  86,  87,  199 

„  Nietzsche  example,  87 

Cryptomnesic  hallucinations,  91 

„  motor-automatism,  91 

Darkness,  effect  of,  on  suggestibility,  59 
Dawson  Williams,  Dr.,  278 
Deception,  Ivenes’  wilful,  44 

„  of  doctor  by  patient,  260,  266-67 

“  Deep  ”  Psychology,  354 
Deficiency,  emotional,  2 
„  intellectual,  2 

„  mental,  2 

„  neurasthenic,  14 

,,  psychopathic,  3,  13 

Definition  of  libido ,  156,  288 
Delbruck,  70 
Delirium,  hysterical,  7 

Dementia  prsecox,  129,  143,  149,  151,  182,  201,  283, 312-18 
Depreciation  by  introverted  type,  289 
Depressions  of  puberty,  127 
Dessoir,  85 

Diagnosis  of  facts,  106-13 
Diehl,  14 
Dionysus,  183 

„  extraversion,  295 
Dionysian  orgies,  366 
Distortion  produced  by  resistances,  285 
Dogma,  224 

Double  consciousness,  1,  84 

Dream-analysis  the  real  instrument  of  the  unconscious,  209,  373 
Dreams,  anxiety,  160,  372 

,,  association  method,  302 

,,  classification  of,  310 

,,  comparative  study  of,  215 

„  conception  of  differing  from  Freud,  222 
,,  content,  manifest  and  latent,  372 

„  Freud’s  conception  of,  222 

,,  instances  of  analysed,  147,  193,  217,  219,  303 
„  many-sided,  217 

„  no  arbitrary  interpretation,  218 


INDEX  383 

Dreams,  no  fixed  symbols,  218,  221,  265,  308 
„  number,  191,  193,  197 
,,  St.  Augustine’s,  307 
„  symbolism  of,  308 

„  typical  themes  of,  310 

Dualism  in  Ivenes’  sub-conscious  personalities  79 
Dubois,  208,  243,  255 
Duplication  of  attributes,  182 
Duty  to  children,  parental,  153 
Duties  biological,  274 

Eccentricities  pre-exist  illness,  282,  289 
Ecstasy,  15,  20 

,,  (Bettina  Brentano),  75 
Ego-complex,  81,  86 
»  >,  (Ivenes),  83 

Ego,  second  (Dessoir),  85 
„  somnambulic  (Ivenes),  76 
Elan  vital ,  231 
Electra-complex,  228 
Empiricism,  291,  301 
Energic  view  point,  231 
Entoptic  phenomena,  61 
Enuresis  nocturna,  170,  237,  239,  246 
Epilepsy,  1 
Epileptoid  attacks,  14 
Erler,  71 

Erotic  conflict,  364-65,  370 
Esquirol,  315 
Etai  second ,  8 
Exhaustive  states,  13 
Experiments  by  Dr.  Furst,  157-58 
Extraversion,  288,  347 

„  regressive,  288 

Familiar  associations,  120-32,  159 

„  constellations,  influence  of,  127 
Fanaticism,  283 

Father,  adaptation  to,  127,  160,  175 
Father-complex,  270 
Faust  analysed,  338-41 
Fechner,  352 
Felida,  case  of,  84 
F6re,  12 
Feuerbach,  346 
Final  view  (Adler),  261 
Finck  (types),  296 
Fixation,  Freud’s  view  of,  227 
„  infantile,  228 
Flournoy,  60,  78,  199,  345-46 

„  case  of  Helen  Smith,  69 


B84 


INDEX 


Folie  circulaire ,  67 
Forel,  70,  261 

Forel,  The  Sexual  Question ,  365 
Frank,  236,  245,  249 

Frend,  59,  73,  82,  104,  132-33,  156,  170,  191,  227,  241,  281,  297-93,  305-08, 
319,  343-44,  349,  354-55,  359,  371,  373 
Freudian  investigations,  133 
Freud’s  case  of  paranoid  dementia,  336-37 
„  conception  of  dreams,  222 
,,  method,  339 
,,  psychology  of  dreams,  300 

„  publications,  opposition  to,  355 

„  theory,  261 

„  „  of  infantile  sexuality,  172 

Frobenius,  310 

Fiirst’s  experiments,  119,  157-58 
Future  character  (Felida),  84 

„  „  (Mary  Reynolds),  84 


Gall,  315 

Genesis  of  dreams,  212 
Genius,  1 
Gley,  50 

Glossolalia,  89-91 

„  instances  of,  28 
Goethe,  12,  339 

„  psychic  stimulation  of,  75 
Grandfathers  I.  and  II.  (Ivenes),  80 
Grebelskaja,  337 
Gross,  348 

„  (types),  296-97 
Guilt  complex,  association  test,  107 
Guinon  and  Waltke,  experiment  of,  10,  47 


Hallucination,  cryptomnesia,  91 

„  hypnosis  in  production  of,  58 

Hallucination  Uleologique ,  84 
Hallucinations,  11,  15,  49,  58,  282 

„  Helen  Smith’s,  63,  64 

,,  hypnagogic,  13,  23,  62 

„  hypnopompic,  23,  62 

„  in  somnambulism,  60 

,,  intuitive,  64 

„  negative,  68 

Hallucinatory  persons,  why  separated,  83 
Hans,  little,  132 
Hecker,  64 
Hedonism,  viii 
Hegel,  290 

Herd-animal,  man  a,  263 


INDEX 


385 


Hoch,  289 
Hoche,  355 

Hoefelt,  spontaneous  somnambulism,  66 
Homosexual  tendencies,  165,  172 
Hypermnesia  (footnote),  86 
Hypnagogic  activities,  23,  71,  204 
„  flashes,  22 
Hypnopompical  dreams,  23 
Hypnosis  in  production  of  hallucination,  58 
Hypnotic  treatment,  6,  237 

w  »>  diametrically  opposed  to  psychoanalysis,  207 

Hypnotism,  essential  character  of,  243 

»  in  automatic  writing,  54,  56 

Hysteria,  1,  7 

Hysteric,  extreme  sensibility  of,  85 
Hysterical  attack  (Ivenes),  aetiology  of,  74 

„  deafness  and  paralysis  (Breuer),  356 

»  delirium,  71 

»  dissociation,  81,  287 

„  forgetfulness,  72 

»»  identification,  71 

„  somnambulism  (case  of  Elise  K.),  3 
Hystero-epilepsy  (Janet),  81 
Hystero-epileptic  attacks,  81 
Hystero-hypnosis  (Ivenes),  79 

Importance  of  the  unconscious,  278 
»  „  types,  348 

Incest-barrier,  230 

Individual,  the,  a  changing  identity,  ix 
„  metaphysical  needs  of,  223 
Infantile  fixation,  228 

„  milieu,  influence  of,  131 
transference,  298 

Infantility  in  primitive  people,  230 
Inspiration,  15 

Instances  of  dreams  analysed,  217,  219 
Intelligence-complex,  114 
Interpolations  in  dreams,  176 
„  in  rumour,  176 

„  v.  analysis,  219 

Interpretation  of  Viennese  school,  one-sided,  217 
Introversion,  137,  140,  288,  347 

„  neurosis  in  child,  140 
Intuitive  hallucinations,  64 
Itten,  337 

Ivenes ,  33-34,  68-84 

„  journeys  on  other  side,  34 

„  mystic  character,  69 

„  oracular  sayings,  36 

„  race-motherhood,  39 


25 


886 


INDEX 


James,  William,  290-92 

„  „  pragmatism,  348 

Janet,  46,  74,  81,  104,  232,  234 
„  automatic  writing  (case  of  Lucie),  55 
„  Lucie  and  L6onie,  66 
„  L6onie,  69 
Janus  face,  174 
Jeanne  d’Arc,  63,  84 
„  „  visions  of,  63 

Jung,  correspondence  with  Loy,  236-277 


K.,  Miss  Elise,  case  of,  15 
Kalk’s  case,  65 
Kant,  278,  303,  339 
Katatonic  dementia  prsecox,  324 
„  negativism,  202 
Kern- complex,  228 
Kerner,  87,  88 
Kerner’s  book,  27,  35,  93 

„  Prophetess  of  Prevorst,  27,  69 
Kraepelin,  352 

Kraepelin-Aschaffenburg  scheme,  157 
Kraft-Ebing,  7 


Lapses  (case  of  S.W.),  20-23 
Legrand  du  Saulle,  66 
Lehmann,  50,  51 
Leibniz,  278 

Lethargy  hysterical  (Ivenes),  74 

„  „  (Loewenfeld),  76 

Libido,  231,  347-48 

„  canalisation  of,  260,  274 

„  defined,  156,  288 

„  stored-up,  234 

Life,  archaic  view  of,  x 
Literature  of  psychoanalysis,  154-55 
Little  Anna,  132-54 
Little  Hans,  132 
Loewenfeld,  74-76 

Loy’s  correspondence  with  Jung,  236-77 

Lumpf-theory,  147 

Lying,  pathological,  15,  70,  71 


Macario,  64 
Macnish’s  case,  11 
Maeder,  337 

Man  a  herd  animal,  263,  269 
Martian  language  (Helen  Smith),  90 
Masochism,  165 


INDEX 


387 


Materia  medica  of  filth,  243-44 

Maury,  62 

Mayer,  231 

Medical  augur,  244 

Medium,  S.W.  as,  18 

Mental  balance,  282 

Mental  deficiency  (neurasthenic),  14 

Mesnet’s  case,  10-11 

Metaphysical  needs  of  individual,  223 

Method  of  association,  370 

Meynert,  316 

Mind  the,  a  Becoming,  341 

Mirror-writing,  54 

Misreading,  17,  46,  48 

Mithras,  religion  of,  366 

Moral  conflict,  225,  242,  247,  251 

Moral  effect  of  analytical  psychology,  375-76 

Morchen,  14 

Mother,  adaptation  to,  125,  159,  171,  232 
Myers,  automatic  writing,  54 
Mystic  science,  S.  W.,  40-44 
Mythology,  226 

Naef’s  case,  8 

Naive  and  sentimental  types,  294 
Nancy  school,  356 

Nebuchadnezzar’s  dream  discussed,  281 
Necessity,  vital,  ix,  375 
Negativism,  200-201 

„  causes  of  (Bleuler),  202 

„  katatonic,  202 

„  schizophrenic,  200 

Nelken,  337 
Neumann,  353 
Neurasthenia,  1,  129 
Neurosis,  256,  370,  375 
„  aetiology  of,  234 

„  and  civilisation,  224,  374 

„  cause  of,  232 

»  >>  outbreak  of,  229 

„  counter-argument  against  husband,  129-31 
,,  failure  in  adaptation,  234 

„  Freud’s  theory  of,  227 

„  introversion  in  child,  140 

„  psychogenic  in  essence,  356 

,,  sexual  aetiology  of  too  narrow,  231 

„  the  cause  in  present,  232 

Neurotic,  a  bearer  of  social  ideals,  271,  277 
Neurotic’s  faith  in  authority,  268 
„  special  task,  233 

Nietzsche,  87,  88,  295-96,  310,  326,  343 


388 


INDEX 


Nucleus-complex,  228 
Number  dreams,  292 

Occultism’s  premature  conclusions,  85 
Occultist  literature,  gnostic  systems,  93 
(Edipus-complex,  228,  232 
Opposition  to  Freud’s  publications,  355 
Ostwald,  292 

Paranoia,  128,  313 

Paranoid  dementia,  Freud’s  case,  336-37 
Parental  duty  to  children,  153 
„  constellation,  160-75 

Parties  supdrieures  (Janet),  232 
Pathological  cheat,  psychology  of,  70 
,,  dreaming  of  saints,  70 
Patient  and  doctor,  personal  relation,  216-219 
Patients’  resistances,  117,  202-05,  216 
Personality  of  doctor,  238,  243,  259 
Persuasion  methods,  237 
Phales,  183 

Phantasies,  sexual,  228 
Phenomena,  entoptic,  61 

„  of  double  consciousness  as  character  formations, 
Philosophy  world,  350 
Physician’s  own  complexes,  243,  257 
Pick,  70,  71 
Pinel,  315 

Power,  evaluation,  274 

„  „  (Adler),  340 

Power  standpoint,  Adler  on,  viii,  ix 
Predicate  type,  125 
Predisposition  to  neurosis,  233,  359 
Press  of  ideas,  203 
Preyer,  51 

Prism,  parable  of,  252 

Problems  of  the  day,  sexual,  276,  367-77 

Projection  on  doctor,  273 

Prophetess  of  Prevorst,  27,  37,  69,  91-93 

Proust’s  case,  9-11 

Prudishness,  154 

„  case  of,  119 
Pseudologia  phantastica,  72 
Pseudological  representation,  71 
Psychic  life  of  child,  132-56 

,,  material  unconscious,  279 
Psychoanalysis  a  high  moral  task,  235 

„  defined,  206,  256 

,,  literature  of,  154-55 

,,  prejudices  against,  206-07 

,,  technique  of,  257 


INDEX 


389 


Psychoanalyst,  education  of,  244,  258,  266 
Psychographic  communications,  25 
Psychological  types,  study  of,  287-98 
Psychology,  deep  (Bleuler),  354 
„  of  dreams,  299-311 

„  of  pathological  cheat,  70 

,,  of  rumour,  176 

Psychocatharsis,  237 
Puberty,  changes  in  character  at,  67 

„  dreams  of,  74,  178 

,,  of  psychopathic,  68 

„  somnambulic  attacks  at,  84 

„  want  of  balance  at,  45 

Race-mothebhood  (Ivenes),  39 
Rapport  effective  with  hysterics,  81,  287 
Reaction-times,  98-102 
„  -type,  157 
»  ,i  hysterical,  97 
,,  „  normal,  96 

Reasoning  method  of  Dubois,  208 
Reconstruction  of  life,  236 
Reincarnation  (Ivenes),  37-9 
Regression,  230,  232 
Regressive  extraversion,  288 
„  introversion,  289 
Renaudin’s  case,  Folie  circulaire,  67 
Repressed  thoughts,  independent  growth  of,  82 
Reproduction  experiment,  116 
Resistances,  patients’,  117,  202-05,  216 
„  productive  of  distortion,  285 
Revenge,  unconscious,  190 

Reynolds,  Mary,  case  of  (change  of  character),  65 
Ribot,  66 
Richer,  66 
Richet,  92 

,,  definition  of  somnambulism,  49 
Rieger,  66 
Riegl,  293 
Riklin,  149 
Rumour,  case  of,  176 

„  interpolations  in,  176 

„  not  conscious  invention,  178 

S.  W.,  case  of,  16-45 
Saints,  pathological  dreaming  of,  70 
Schiller,  294 
Schizophrenia,  201,  312 

»  Bleuler’s  summary,  203 

Schizophrenic  introversion,  204 
„  splitting,  201 


390 


INDEX 


Scholasticism,  340,  352,  373 
School,  the  Zurich,  355 
„  „  Nancy,  356 

Schoolmaster  view,  264 
Schopenhauer,  295,  368 
Schreber  case,  343,  346 
Schiile,  61 

Semi-somnambulic  states,  23 
Semi-somnambulism  (S.W.),  23,  37,  48-9 
Sexual  enlightenment  of  children,  152,  247 
„  phantasies,  228 
„  problems  of  the  day,  277,  367-77 
Sexual  question ,  Forel,  365 
Sexual  surrogates,  172 
Sexuality,  importance  of  infantile,  172 
„  primitive  man’s  view  of,  306 
Sexualisation  of  thought,  204 
Significance  of  the  father,  156 


»  yy 

yy 

case  1...160 

yy  yy 

yy 

„  2... 162 

yy  yy 

yy 

„  3.. .165 

yy  yy 

yy 

,,  4.. .170 

„  of  number  dreams,  191 

Slips  of  tongue,  179 

Smith,  Helen,  case  of,  61,  63-64,  72,  91 
Socrates,  332,  374 
Somnambulic  attacks,  S.W.,  28 

„  „  origin  of,  75 

„  dialogues,  18 
;,  personalities,  30-33 

Somnambulism,  2, 8,  16,  18,  240 
Somnambulist’s  suggestibility,  92 

„  thought  in  plastic  images,  60 

Spielrein,  337 

Standpoint,  causal,  final,  viii 
Stanley  Hall,  Dr.,  94 
Star-dwellers,  35,  36 
Stekel,  191,  259,  261 
Stereotypic  acts,  282 
Stimulus  word,  101 

„  „  repetition  of,  105 

Study  of  psychological  types,  287-98 
Subconscious  personality,  how  constructed,  55 

„  personalities,  Grandfather  I.  and  II.,  80 

Subjective  roots  of  dreams,  73 

Sublimation,  140 
Sucking  as  sexual  act,  231 
Suggestibility,  influence  of  darkness  on,  59 
„  somnambulist’s,  92 

Suggestion,  analysis  not  a  method  of,  207 
„  by  analyst,  261,  265,  266 


INDEX 


391 


Superstition,  scientific  dread  of,  211 
„  unconscious,  280 

Swedenborg,  37 

,,  visions  of,  63 

Symbol  interpreted  semiotically,  vii 
„  not  fixed,  218,  221,  265,  308 
„  psychological,  two  aspects  of,  viii 

„  value  of  religious,  xi 

Symbolic  meaning  of  sexual  phantasies,  222 
Symbolism,  198,  224 

„  an  experience,  222 

,,  book  of  Tobias,  174 

»  chestnuts,  meaning  of,  183 

«  God  and  devil,  174 

„  of  dreams,  59,  218,  308 

»  value  of  religious,  224 

Sympathy  (extraversion),  293 
Symptomatic  acts,  46, 179,  281 
Systematic  anaesthesia,  68 

Table  movements,  85 
Table-turning,  17,  24,  50 
Tachypnoea  (case  of  S.W.),  19 
Teleology,  meaning  in  double  consciousness,  84 
Telepathic  thought-reading,  266 
Tender-minded  and  tough-minded,  290 
Thought  pressure,  204 
Thought-reading,  85-92 
Thought,  somnambulic,  in  plastic  images,  60 
„  transference,  24,  51,  56 
Tongue,  slips  of,  179 
Transference,  245-46,  270,  289 
„  infantile,  298 

»  positive  and  negative,  270-72 

Trauma,  sexual,  227,  242,  358,  361-62 
„  theory  (Charcot),  361 
Trumbull  Ladd,  62 

Truth,  what  is  it,  252,  256 
Twilight  states,  71,  81 
Type,  complex,  114 
„  definition,  114 
„  extraverted,  288 
„  introverted,  288 
„  objective,  11 
„  predicate,  115 
Types  (Finck),  296 
„  (Gross),  296-97 
„  importance  of,  348 
„  naive  and  sentimental,  294 
Tough  and  tender-minded,  290 
Typical  themes  of  dreams,  310 


392  INDEX 

Unconscious,  an  extension  of  the  individual,  vi 
„  compensation,  284 

„  importance  of  the,  278 

„  personalities  (Ivenes),  77 

„  psychic  material,  279 

„  superstition,  280 

Understanding,  prospective,  388 
„  retrospective,  338 

Value  of  religious  symbolism,  224 
Viennese  school,  one-sided  interpretations  of,  217 
Visions,  Benvenuto  Cellini,  63 
„  hypnagogic,  63,  71 

,,  of  Jeanne  d’Arc,  63 

„  of  S.W.,  21 

„  of  Swedenborg,  63 

Visual  images,  60 

„  v.  auditory  hallucinations,  61 
“  Vital  necessity,”  ix 
Voisin,  66 

Volitional  meaning  of  dreams,  222 
Vischer,  348-49 

Wandering  impulse,  cases  of,  9 
Warringer,  293-94 
Washing  mania,  246 
Wernicke,  316 
Westphal,  13 
Witch-sleep,  75 

Word  predicate,  type  defined,  158 

Word-presentation,  53 

Works  of  the  Zurich  school,  345-46 

World-philosophy,  350 

Wundt,  352 

Zschokke,  92 
Zurich  school,  355 

„  works  of,  345-46 


THE  END 


Baillibre,  Tindall  <Se  Cox,  8,  Henrietta  Street,  Covent  Garden,  W.C. 


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